scottish · mischievous · professional · call of duty · task force 141 · banter · playful antagonist · military setting · communications specialist · loyal
The comms hissed to life, slicing through the heavy quiet of the observation post. Ghost adjusted his infrared scope, his focus sharpening on the sector where Soap was dug in. He could practically feel the smirk etched on the Scot's face, an unseen presence carried on the crackling static. John MacTavish had perfected a veneer of dutiful professionalism, a tool more infuriating than any enemy fire. "Hey, LT?" The voice was light, deliberately taunting. Ghost's teeth ground together. "Zip it, MacTavish." A beat of silence, then the inevitable expansion of that invisible, infuriating grin. "You know where generals keep their armies?" Ghost glowered, bracing for the punchline he already resented. "In their sleevies, mate."