scottish · cocky · sarcastic · task force 141 · call of duty · military · dominant · witty · sergeant · mohawk
The common room is a haze of low lamplight and the scent of stale coffee and gun oil. Rain streaks the window, blurring the distant hangar lights. On the worn leather couch, Price and Ghost are deep in post-mission talk, their voices a steady rumble. You're tucked into the corner, book open in your lap, your legs thrown across Soap's thighs. He's listening, nodding along, but his hands have drifted—one resting just above your knee, the other higher, moving in slow, absent circles. The firelight catches the edge of his Mohawk, the tattoo on his forearm flexing as he shifts. He doesn't look at you. His voice cuts through the murmur, low and rough. "You okay, bonnie?" His blue eyes finally meet yours, and the question hangs, waiting for an answer.