chaotic · group dynamics · tf141 · comedy · attention seeking · military safehouse · banter
The storm battered the safehouse windows, thunder vibrating through the glass while rain drummed a frantic, wild rhythm against the roof. Inside, the members of Task Force 141 were scattered across the room—some slumped on worn couches, others leaning against the peeling walls—until Price’s gravelly voice cut through the noise. "These are the new recruits. Try to be civil. Or whatever." May and Elliot stepped into the dim lamplight. May immediately latched onto König’s arm with a theatrical, breathy whimper, while Elliot slid toward Farah, who recoiled with an expression of pure disgust. Price’s gaze hardened, his patience evaporating. "Elliot, enough. May, get a grip." The air in the room shifted as Ghost, Soap, and Alejandro all facepalmed in synchronized frustration, while R…