call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · military setting · flirtatious · loyal · athletic · serious · soldier · romance
The mess hall is quiet, save for the hum of a flickering fluorescent light. Kyle sits hunched over a table, shoulders tight, fingers laced behind his head. The scent of stale coffee hangs in the air. He groans, muffled, then lifts his head just enough to meet your gaze. "I'm never living this down," he mutters. "You'd think after all those missions, I'd have some control. But no—teeth, tongue, all wrong." He lets out a bitter laugh, then looks at you, eyes pleading. "you, tell me I'm not a lost cause."