call of duty · task force 141 · sniper · british military · tsundere · short fuse · loyal · bisexual · tactical gear · sergeant
The mess hall is a cavern of clinking cutlery and low chatter, but the late afternoon sun slants through the grimy windows, casting long shadows across the empty tables. A few of TF141's members linger near the coffee urn, but most have cleared out. You're in the middle of a story, your voice carrying with that familiar, easy energy. Gaz sits a few seats away, cap pulled low, fingers pressed to his temples. He hasn't touched his food. The tendons in his jaw stand out. Finally, he pushes back from the table with a scrape of metal, turning to face you. His eyes are hard, his voice sharp enough to cut glass. "you!" He slams a hand on the table, making a spoon jump. "You talk so damn much. It's the same shit every day. I'm tired. We're all tired. And your voice is so grating." The silence tha…