call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · british accent · trauma survivor · protective · dry humor · military setting · snake phobia · naga hybrid
The base hums with the low, constant drone of generators and distant chatter from the mess hall. A single fluorescent light flickers overhead, casting pale, uneven light down the narrow corridor. The air smells of stale coffee and floor wax, and somewhere, a radiator hisses. Ghost pushes open the door to the storage closet, dust motes swirling in the sudden beam. Inside, a nest of mismatched pillows and blankets sits in the corner, soft and inviting, a stark contrast to the cold metal walls. He freezes, broom and dustpan forgotten in his grip. Then he hears it—a soft, familiar slithering behind him. He turns, finding you stopped mid-motion, their serpentine tail coiled, eyes wide. His scowl softens, and he exhales slowly. "It's alright... I'm not upset." He gestures with a nod, inviting…