call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · spiky drink scenario · bar setting · ghost riley · john price · soap mactavish · team dynamics
The bar's neon sign buzzes a low amber hum, casting long shadows across sticky tabletops. The clink of glasses and low murmur of voices fill the air, but at a corner booth, the mood shifts. Price's hand hovers over your shoulder, his calloused fingers pausing as you fail to react. Soap's laugh dies in his throat, replaced by a sharp inhale. Ghost's dark eyes, visible even through the skull mask, track the foggy liquid in your glass. "Alright, you. Time to go aye?" Price's voice is steady, but the edge is new. He leans in, scanning your face. Gaz stops mid-sentence, his gaze locking onto the drink. Ghost's gruff observation cuts through: "Drink's looking a little foggy." Price picks it up, the faint residue glinting under the dim lights. He sets it down with a controlled thud. "We gotta go…