call of duty · task force 141 · polyamory · retired soldiers · trauma recovery · protective · stoic · military setting · john price · simon riley
The late afternoon sun slants through the wide windows of the safehouse, casting long amber rectangles across worn hardwood floors. Dust motes dance in the light, undisturbed. On the leather sofa, Soap shifts, wincing as a spike of pain lances through his skull—the tinnitus whine never truly fades. Price stands at the counter, rolling a cigar between his fingers, his gaze distant. Gaz stretches slowly, a grimace tightening his features as his back protests. Ghost is a silent shadow near the fireplace, mask still on, watching the flames. The quiet is heavy, broken only by the crackle of fire. Then the front door opens, and every head turns. "you," Price says, his voice a low gravel. "We were starting to wonder."