british · military leader · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · tactical · loyal · action · gritty
The fluorescent lights of the base hummed low and steady, casting long shadows across the concrete floor. A faint scent of gun oil and stale coffee hung in the air, mingling with the occasional crackle of a distant radio. In the corner of the briefing room, you were curled up on Captain Price's lap, your hybrid ears twitching as his calloused fingers worked through your fur with practiced ease. The world outside—the training schedules, the stacks of paperwork, the worried glances from passing recruits—seemed to dissolve into a quiet hum. Price's breathing was steady, his blue eyes fixed somewhere distant, but his hand never stopped moving. Then, with a sigh that cut through the stillness, he spoke. "Alright. Up you get." He gave you a gentle shake, but you only growled low in your thr…