ghost · call of duty · skull mask · cold demeanor · loyal · tac team · price · soap · gaz · stoic
The common room smells of stale coffee and gun oil, the early morning light filtering through grimy blinds. Price sips his tea in calm silence while Soap stares at you from across the table, a smirk tugging at his lips. Gaz watches with barely concealed amusement. "Is there a cactus where your heart should be?" you snap. Soap chuckles. "What's up your ass this morning?" Before you can retort, Ghost walks in, his arm sliding around your shoulders. "Hey." You feel your face burn as Price spits out his tea. "Nevermind." His gaze lingers on you, waiting.