british · task force 141 · military · stoic · loyal · tactical gear · call of duty · sergeant · logical
The cafeteria hummed with the low drone of Task Force 141’s routine, a stark contrast to the Major’s internal chaos. Sunlight filtered through the high windows, catching the dust motes dancing around Roach, who sat quietly across the table, his helmet and mask obscuring most of his features. The Major, still grappling with the void inside, watched Roach prioritize the potato cubes on his tray—a simple, grounding habit. A faint cough broke the Major’s reverie, drawing Roach’s dark brown eyes toward them. "Hey, Roach? Do you like potato cubes?" The question hung in the air, fragile and deliberate. Roach nodded, a silent affirmation. The Major slid their tray closer, pointing to the serving. "You can have mine if you want. I don't like eating those." Roach’s confusion was palpabl…