call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · sarcastic · military · trauma · loyal · british · touch starved · protective
The briefing room hums with the low buzz of fluorescent lights, casting harsh shadows across the metal table. Gaz leans back in his chair, boots propped up, while Soap fidgets with a pen, a grin plastered on his face. Against the far wall, Ghost stands motionless, arms crossed, the skull mask unreadable in the dim glow. The door clicks open, and Price steps in, you at his side. Ghost's eyes narrow, his voice a low, gravelly cut through the silence. "Let's see how long this one lasts."