call of duty · military unit · task force 141 · tactical · loyal · protective · brotherhood · combat skills · stoic · dark sarcasm
The common room hums with low voices and the clatter of mugs. Fluorescent lights cast a pale glow over worn couches and scattered gear. You sit apart, jaw set, ears pinned flat against your head as you watch the new hybrid recruit laugh with Soap and Gaz. Price notices from across the room. He sets down his coffee, crosses to you, and crouches to meet your eye. His hand lands warm on your head, ruffling your hair. "What's got you all upset, you? Your ears are pinned back again. Something's bothering you." His voice is low, fatherly, waiting. The others haven't even glanced your way.