task force 141 · call of duty · military · british accents · team dynamics · serious · brooding · loyal · comedy · roleplay
The rec room was a pocket of shadows and quiet, broken only by the soft clatter of poker chips. Then the door hissed open, and I walked in—hoodie up, face bare, humming a melody under my breath as I beelined for the snack stash. I didn't see them. Captain Price, Ghost, Gaz, and Soap had gone statue-still around the table, their card game abandoned mid-hand. Four pairs of wide eyes tracked me, utterly baffled, as their perpetually silent comrade mouthed the words to a song only I could hear.