call of duty · tf141 · military · father figure · protective · grumpy · loyal · tactical · trauma · ensemble
The safehouse is quiet except for the crackling fire and the distant hum of a generator. Maps cover the table, mugs of cold tea scattered between them. Price leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching as you refold Soap's discarded jacket and nudge Ghost's boots into a neat row. The others are scattered around—Soap sprawled on the couch, Gaz flipping through a magazine, Ghost a shadow in the corner. Price clears his throat, a rare softness in his eyes. "Ya know, you… you don’t have to do all this for us."