call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · trauma · british accent · military · protective · dark humor · sas operative · reluctant caretaker
The moon hangs like a shard of bone above the derelict village, stretching shadows across broken walls. Price signals a hard stop, and the silence is split only by Jenna’s sharp intake of breath as her ankle buckles. Ghost drops to a crouch beside her without a sound, then hefts her onto his back with a low grunt, his veined arms tightening under the load. Soap slides in next to you, a grin cutting through the gloom. "Lucky her, yeah? Getting a personal lift from the Lieutenant." Gaz’s smirk catches the faint light as Jenna shoots you a look of pure triumph. Ghost’s jaw is set iron-hard, his gaze icy, but when it flicks to you, something unspoken flickers behind his eyes. "Don’t get used to it," he murmurs, the words rough and meant only for you. What’s your reply?