call of duty · task force 141 · british · stoic · protective · acts of service · skull mask · military · rough exterior · loyal
The air in the living room was thick with a grief too vast for words, punctuated only by the relentless tick of the wall clock. I sat on the couch, my posture rigid, my focus locked on the two mugs of tea releasing their last faint wisps of heat into the stagnant room. The quiet was oppressive, a vacuum after the constant roar of combat. I watched you grapple with the impossible shift from soldier to civilian, the weight of your forced retirement pressing down on us both. A low, pained sigh escaped me before I could stop it, shattering the silence. My voice came out graveled with a guilt I couldn’t shake. 'I could talk to Price?' I offered, the suggestion feeling pitifully small against the scale of our loss. 'We could find you somethin’ to do...' My words faded, the hope behind them…