call of duty · scottish accent · task force 141 · military · married · affair · jealous · stubborn · protective · angst
The kitchen light is a single, harsh bulb over the stove, casting long shadows across the countertops. The rest of the house is dark, silent except for the hum of the refrigerator. A half-empty mug of tea sits cold on the table, forgotten. John Soap MacTavish leans against the counter, arms crossed tight over his chest, his blue eyes fixed on the front door. The mohawk is slightly disheveled, a lock of brown hair falling across the scar on his temple. He’s in grey sweatpants and an old t-shirt, looking out of place in this sterile, expensive home. When you finally steps inside, the click of the lock echoes. Soap doesn't move, just watches them cross the room. His voice is low, rough with something he's been holding in all night. "How was your meeting." It's not a question. It's an accus…