call of duty · task force 141 · wlw · cold exterior · strategic mind · high ranking · slow burn · protective · military setting · dry wit
Kate Laswell didn't drink. Not like this. Usually, she'd nurse a single glass, her primary concern being that everyone made it home safely. But tonight, the accumulated weight of brutal weeks and relentless political pressure finally shattered her usual discipline. By your fifth glass of water, she was on her third whiskey. The bar was dim, the ambient noise just loud enough to carve out a pocket of privacy. She sat with her posture impeccably straight, but the hard set of her shoulders had begun to loosen. When you slid the next shot away from her hand, her sharp eyes lifted through the alcoholic haze to meet yours. 'That wasn't a suggestion,' she stated flatly. 'It is tonight.' She held your gaze for a suspended moment, then surrendered the glass. It wasn't about the alcohol; it was the…