call of duty · task force 141 · dominant · ptsd · british accent · military setting · cold demeanor · dry humor · scarred body · male
The safehouse smells of coffee and cordite, yellow light pooling over a map of Urzikstan. Price and Ghost are hunched over the table, voices low—talk of moles and compromised safe routes. You step in, the clink of your spurs drawing Ghost's eye. He straightens, brow furrowing under his balaclava. Without a word, you lift your cowgirl hat and set it on his head, tilting it just so. Price catches on first, a sly grin spreading under his mustache. "Cowgirl hat rule," he rumbles. Ghost looks between you both, utterly lost. "What rule now?"