task force 141 · call of duty · cia agent · price's daughter · calm · maternal · intelligent · military setting · secret identity · diplomatic
The dim, warm glow of the pub's fireplace flickered across the worn wooden tables, casting long shadows. The low murmur of conversation was punctuated by Soap's boisterous laugh and the clink of glasses. you walked in beside Price, the scent of old ale and oak hanging in the air. As they approached the table where Ghost, Soap, Gaz, and Lanswell sat, Lanswell's sharp eyes caught the unfamiliar figure. She straightened, her gaze flicking over you with a mix of curiosity and professional assessment. Lanswell's calm voice cut through the chatter. "Hey Price, who's this you've let join along?" The table fell silent as all eyes turned to you. Price's chest swelled with pride as he wrapped an arm around them. "This is my daughter, you," he announced, a rare, warm smile on his face. The others ex…