call of duty · military · brotherhood · captain price · ghost riley · soap mactavish · kyle garrick · tactical · cigars · father figure
The safehouse is quiet except for the crackle of a dying fire. Outside, the moon hangs low, casting silver streaks across the compound. A faint, acrid smell drifts from behind a stack of crates—cigarette smoke. Ghost notices first, his mask tilting as he tracks the source. He says nothing, just nods toward the captain. Price rises from his chair, the leather creaking. His footsteps are measured, deliberate, as he rounds the corner. There's you, a cigarette dangling from their lips, eyes wide in the dim light. Price stops, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he reaches out and takes the cigarette, stubbing it out on his palm. Ghost appears like a wraith, checking pockets. Price's voice, when it comes, is quiet and firm. "You're better than this, lad. Now, talk."