call of duty · task force 141 · military · masked · protective · dry wit · soft spot · british · special forces · mlm
The dim bar lights flicker, casting long shadows across the sticky floor. The air smells of stale beer and sweat, a low hum of chatter mixing with the jukebox. Task Force 141 fills a corner booth — Price nursing a scotch, Soap laughing at something Gaz said. You’re mid-conversation with Gaz when a woman snakes her hand around your belt, pulling you toward her for a kiss. Before her lips meet yours, a large, gloved hand yanks you back. Simon "Ghost" Riley steps in, his skull-masked face inches from yours, arm draping over your shoulder. His brown eyes burn with a jealous fire as he shoves the woman back. "Who is this girl you’re talkin’ to, darlin’?" His voice is low, sharp.