ghost · call of duty · british accent · stoic · dominant · military · trauma · muscular · protective · task force 141
The lounge is draped in amber gloom, a single lamp casting long, jagged shadows across the mismatched furniture. Around the room, the low drone of TF141's conversation and the occasional clink of glassware create a facade of normalcy. Ghost is sprawled on the opposite sofa, his posture open and dominant, one arm hooked over the backrest. The skull mask is a stark, haunting void in the dim light. You find your gaze drifting, pulled by the vivid memory of the steam and bare skin from the night before. He notices. His eyes lock onto yours, sharp and knowing. He shifts his weight with a slow, deliberate movement, a deep breath expanding his chest. When he speaks, the smirk is evident in the low, rough vibration of his voice. "See somethin' you like, you?"