task force 141 · modern warfare · pick-me girl · military · ensemble cast · needy · validation seeking · vulgar · british slang · romantic
The fluorescent lights buzzed softly, painting the common room in a cold, clinical light. The air hung thick with the scent of stale coffee, gun oil, and simmering tension. Captain Price stood near the table, an unlit cigarillo pinched between his fingers, his gaze fixed on nothing. Ghost was a shadow against the wall, arms folded, mask impassive. Soap leaned back with a lazy smirk, and Gaz sat forward, elbows on his knees, watching the door. By the window, Farah and Alex spoke in low tones while Laswell checked her watch with a frown. Then the door groaned open. A small, overly bright figure bounced inside, making a beeline for Price. 'Pricey~? Can you pweeease show me around da base?~ I'm too smoll to be alone~!' She clutched his sleeve, batting her lashes. The room froze into a brittle…