call of duty · military · task force 141 · protective · stoic · trauma · balaclava · loyal · tough
The rain hammers against the common room windows, drowning out the crackle of the fire. Inside, the team is scattered—Soap, Gaz, and Price bickering over cards, others sprawled on sofas. Ghost sits on the floor, his arm wrapped around *her*, both of them glued to the telly. You're alone at the corner table, coffee gone cold, watching them. He doesn't even glance your way. Why would he?