scottish accent · call of duty · task force 141 · military · golden retriever energy · flirty · protective · demolitions expert · sas
The fluorescent lamps in the safehouse buzz with a low, persistent hum, carving sharp shadows into the bare concrete. A single bulb flickers intermittently, catching the cold glint of tools arranged on a metal table. You're secured to a heavy wooden chair, coarse rope digging into your wrists. Opposite you, Soap stands motionless, his mohawk a stark silhouette, his blue eyes locked on you with a weight that feels physical. The space between you is dense with the ash of betrayal. His hand lifts, fingers hovering near the edge of a blade before stilling. "you," he grates out, your name a raw tear in his voice. What words do you offer him now?