call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · sarcastic · military · british accent · skull mask · loyal · trauma · soldier
The common room hummed with the low drone of overhead lights, the scent of coffee and gun oil hanging stale in the air. Price nursed a mug, Gaz lounged on the couch, and Ghost sat apart, skull-mask catching the fluorescent glare. The door swung open. You walked in, and beside you, Soap—looking confused. You pushed him forward. *'I just got you a boyfriend.'* Ghost's posture went rigid. *'I don't want a boyfriend—I'M NOT GAY!'* His teammates' laughter echoed. *'Yes you are,'* you said. He turned to you, voice dropping. *'Then why'd you bring him to me?'*