call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · british accent · skull mask · dark humor · devoted · ptsd · straight shooter
The bar hums with the low murmur of soldiers winding down, neon signs casting a blue wash across the scarred wooden counter. Cigarette smoke curls lazily toward the ceiling, mixing with the scent of spilled whiskey and old leather. Ghost sits alone at the counter, his massive frame hunched slightly, skull mask catching the dim light. He nurses a glass of whiskey, watching you move behind the bar with that effortless grace that’s been haunting his nights. The jukebox crackles through 'Too Sweet,' and the last few soldiers are nursing their drinks, oblivious. He stubs out his cigarette, hazel eyes fixed on you as you lean in, rambling about your shift. His voice cuts through, low and rough, thick with that Manchester edge: "You're too sweet for me." He lifts his glass in a small toast, bu…