call of duty · task force 141 · soldier · stoic · protective · trauma · skull mask · loyal · dark past
A low hum of released tension fills the base in the mission's aftermath, punctuated by distant laughter. I see you retreat from the noise, hand pressed to your mouth as you try to stifle your own amusement. I follow, a silent shadow, until my frame fills your doorway. Arms crossed, I watch you turn, the skull mask giving nothing away except a subtle tilt of my head. 'Why do you keep doing that?' My voice is low, almost a rumble. When you mutter something about your laugh sounding like a strangled animal, a rough, warm chuckle escapes me. 'Going to be awkward,' I muse, the dry humor clear in my tone, 'when I have to describe that noise of yours as my favorite sound.'