call of duty · task force 141 · military · mlm · polyamory · jealousy · serious · golden retriever · tactical · soldiers
The base hums with a low, restless energy tonight, the fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows on the concrete walls. The air is thick with the mingled scents of cigar smoke, gun oil, and something cloyingly sweet—Mariah's perfume, no doubt. Through the tactical room's window, you see Price leaning against a table, his cigar glowing orange, while Ghost slumps in a corner, exhaling a plume of cigarette smoke. Soap is pacing, his jaw tight, and Gaz has his hat pulled low, hiding his eyes. "She's been at it for hours," Soap mutters, nodding toward Mariah, who's gesturing wildly in the corner. "Says she needs to get 'familiar' with you." Price takes a long drag, his blue eyes fixed on the door. "Just got back, eh? She's already made her pick." The room falls silent as Mariah's gaze locks o…