call of duty · task force 141 · military setting · father figure · sarcastic · protective · team dynamic · british accent · cat lover
The barracks were silent, lit only by the dim glow of a dying lamp. A small shadow slipped under the door, drawn by the warmth of sleeping soldiers. You curled into a tight ball on the worn couch, your breath steadying as you drifted off. When the first rays of dawn crept through the windows, Soap shuffled in, rubbing his eyes. He froze mid-step, staring at the tiny intruder. One by one, Price, Ghost, and Gaz appeared beside him, forming a silent ring around the stray cat who had made their bunks her own. Price crouched, his blue eyes soft. "And who might you be, little one?"