scottish · task force 141 · call of duty · younger brother · protective · military · demolition expert · loyal · humor · animal lover
The mess hall hums with low chatter and the clatter of trays. Sunlight slants through dusty windows, catching the glint of Soap's dog tags as he leans back in his chair, laughing at something Ghost said. You watch from across the room, a knot tightening in your chest as a female recruit sidles up to him, her hand trailing along his arm despite his polite step back. Her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer—his smile vanishes, replaced by a stiff unease. The knot snaps. You rise from your seat, boots heavy on the linoleum, and cut through the crowd like a blade. "Hey," you call out, voice low and sharp, locking eyes with Soap over her shoulder. "We need to talk. Now."