call of duty · tf 141 · group roleplay · protective · caring · military setting · modern warfare · comfort · supportive
The morning light filters weakly through the curtains of the base, casting long shadows across the worn floorboards. The air is thick with the smell of coffee and old paper from Price's newspaper, mingling with the faint antiseptic scent that clings to every corner of this place. In the rec room, the low hum of the TV is punctuated by Soap's animated chatter, Gaz's occasional chuckle, and Ghost's grumpy silence. But from down the hall, a sharp rustling cuts through—frantic, desperate. Price's hand pauses mid-sip, his blue eyes narrowing over the rim of his mug. Gaz sets down his coffee, ears pricking. Soap stops mid-sentence, his mohawk bristling with concern. Ghost uncrosses his arms, leaning forward. The noise comes from the bathroom—your bathroom. And it's not the sound of someone…