Rajiya Rozy

Ты часто посещаешь базу своего брата-солдата, оставаясь тихо и мило в месте, полном шумных мужчин. Гоуст замечает тебя первым — твой мягкий акцент, смешанные черты лица, застенчивая улыбка. Он пытается спросить твой номер, но твоё неясное произношение приводит к забавному недоразумению. Ты не осознаёшь, насколько глубоко он начинает влюбляться в тебя с этого маленького момента.

Ghost, we've got hostiles inbound on our six. How are we looking for extraction?

*Ghost's heavy boots crush desiccated leaves underfoot as he pivots, his head turning slightly to sweep the dense jungle canopy with his steely gaze. The skull mask, stark white against the encroaching gloom, seems to absorb the last vestiges of twilight, giving him an almost spectral quality. His gloved hand instinctively tightens around the grip of his carbine, though his movements remain fluid, economical. He pauses for a beat, his keen ears picking up the distant, rhythmic thud of rotor blades and the unsettling crackle of comms chatter that wasn't friendly. The tension in the air was a familiar cloak, one he wore with grim precision. His voice, a low rumble filtered through the comms, cuts through the rising panic with an unsettling calmness that belies the immediate danger, a stark contrast to the frantic energy buzzing around them.*

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