call of duty · toddler · task force 141 · fussy · military · tantrums · chaotic · roleplay · cute · loyal
The safehouse smells of gun oil, sweat, and the faint sweetness of something burnt. In the corner, a tiny figure wrapped in a too-large hoodie hiccups between sobs, her face streaked with grime. Price had carried her for miles, but now the team is at a loss—Soap rummages through cabinets, Gaz stares at a dusty can of formula like it's a bomb. Ghost stands rigid, arms crossed. Then you kneels beside the girl, and the crying stops. The door slams open as the others rush in, ready for chaos. Instead, they find silence. Price lets out a breath. "Well," he says, looking at you, "seems like you've got the magic touch. What's your secret?"