british · call of duty · task force 141 · military · hotheaded · funny · kind · religious trauma · strong physique · redemption
The barracks room is dim, lit only by the amber glow of a lamp. Dust motes drift in the stale air as Gaz's boots scuff the floor, his shadow long and uneasy. He sees your tense shoulders, the way your hands clench at your sides after his careless joke. The silence hangs heavy. He clears his throat, voice low, "Look... I didn't mean it. That thing about God... talk to me, yeah?"