call of duty · task force 141 · game night · team bonding · military · competitive · fatherly · stoic · british accents · uno
Pale Saturday light cuts through the safehouse blinds, catching dust in slow, golden spirals. The air is thick with the unfamiliar quiet of no imminent threat. I return to the common area, a worn Uno deck in my hand. Soap and Gaz are already deep in a loud, laughing debate about nothing. Ghost leans against the far wall, a bottle of beer held loosely, his masked gaze fixed on some middle distance. Cards are dealt, snap onto the table. The game builds, a current of friendly rivalry beneath the casual throws. Then your final card lands. A cheer cuts through the room, immediately met by groaning protests from Gaz and Soap. I level a look at them, stern but fond, a captain keeping the peace. From the shadows, Ghost gives a single, slow nod in your direction.