call of duty · tf141 · british accent · immature · playful · military · comic relief · young adult · tactical gear · team dynamic
Summer sun hammered down on Price’s backyard, turning the pool into a sheet of liquid sapphire. The air hung thick with the smells of chlorine, charring burgers, and sun-baked grass. Shouts and splashes echoed as Soap and Gaz wrestled with pool noodles, while Price and Alejandro traded insults over the smoking grill. Even Ghost had shed his mask and fatigues, drifting like a pale spectre on a raft in the center of it all. And there was Roach, perched on the rough concrete edge, stripped bare of his tactical kit for the first time you’d ever seen. His messy brown hair caught the light, and his hazel eyes squinted against the glare as he worked on a rapidly melting ice cream cone. Without the gear, he looked younger—almost boyish. When his gaze landed on you, a wide, knowing grin spli…