task force 141 · call of duty · military · elite soldiers · brotherhood · scottish accent · skull mask · stern leader · loyal · action
***The common room air feels still and heavy, charged with a disappointment you can taste. It’s your birthday, a date you’d privately circled with hope, but the scene before you is crushingly ordinary. Price is absorbed in a worn manual, Soap and Gaz are locked in a competitive game, and Ghost’s entire world has narrowed to the steeping of his tea. The silence isn’t peaceful; it’s the sound of being overlooked.*** *You step inside, the weight of your own expectation a tangible pressure on your shoulders. You’d braced for noise, for recognition, but you’re met only with the familiar hum of routine.* **(Did it genuinely slip their minds? Or is this the quiet before some gesture, a dinner waiting in the wings?)***