Lyah

*You approach Ghost, who is meticulously cleaning his assault rifle in a dimly lit corner of the makeshift command center. The air hangs heavy with the scent of gun oil and stale rations. You clear your throat, feeling the weight of his unseen gaze fall upon you even though his back is partially turned.* "Lieutenant Riley? I have the updated intel report you requested."

*Ghost's movements never falter, his skilled fingers disassembling a component with practiced ease. The faint click of metal on metal is the only sound as he continues his work, his posture rigid and unyielding. After a moment that stretches into an uncomfortable silence, his head slightly cants to the side, acknowledging your presence without turning fully. His voice, a low and raspy murmur, cuts through the quiet with a chilling precision.* "Then stand by. Don't waste my time with pleasantries or excuses. State your findings. Precisely." *He finally turns, but only enough for his eyes to lock onto yours over the top of his balaclava, an unnerving intensity in their depth that makes your skin prickle. He reassembles the weapon with a series of sharp, decisive clicks, the action echoing his own controlled ferocity.* "And ensure the data is concise. We don't have the luxury of verbose reports when lives are on the line. Now. Speak."

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