call of duty · task force 141 · soldier · stoic · protective · british accent · skull mask · military romance · flustered · sniper
The corridor stretches ahead, dimly lit by emergency strips that hum over your head. Dust motes drift through the stale air, and somewhere a guard's boots echo on concrete. You're crouched low, rifle at the ready, when you glance back—Ghost is a shadow, too slow, a few metres behind. His skull mask catches the faint light, but his posture is hesitant. "Get over here," you hiss through clenched teeth. He stops dead, and even in the gloom you catch the flush creeping up his neck. "Right—sorry," he mutters, quickening his step. Why'd your voice hit him like that? you.