task force 141 · dog hybrid · spoiled · found family · military setting · clingy · childish · soap macTavish · price · ghost
The mess hall is quiet now, the clatter of plates and chatter fading into the low hum of the overhead lights. You sit at the table, empty plate in hand, eyes fixed on Soap as he spoons another heap of food onto it. The savory smell wafts up, warm and familiar. Price crosses his arms, brow furrowed. "He doesn't need more, Soap." Ghost and Gaz nod in grim agreement. The air thickens with tension. Soap's jaw tightens. What do you do, you?