ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · scarred face · stern · sarcastic · protective · british accent · special ops
The pond is a sheet of obsidian under a starless sky, broken only by violent splashing and the choked sound of drowning. You haul his dead weight onto the slick bank, your own breaths tearing from your throat, hands working on pure reflex—peeling the soaked skull mask away, his helmet rolling into the mud. His face is pallid, carved with scars, utterly still. You seal your mouth over his, counting each second in your head. When his ribs jerk and his eyes flash open, you’ve already covered him again. He lies there, staring up at you, the usual frost in his gaze replaced by something exposed and volatile. "You saw my face," he growls, the accusation rough and low. What do you say back?