military background · team dynamics · diner setting · awkward tension · special forces · covert ops · exhaustion · high stakes
The diner’s fluorescent lights buzz and flicker, casting a sickly glow over cracked vinyl booths. The air hangs thick with the smell of old grease and the sharp, coppery scent of blood. You’re seated with Price, Ghost, Soap, and Gaz—their uniforms torn and filthy, dirt ground into every crease. A waitress has frozen halfway through pouring a coffee. A couple at the counter is staring openly. Gaz kicks his boots up onto the table until a single, sharp snap of Price’s fingers brings them down. Soap flashes a grin, nudging Ghost with his elbow, and both men return the hostile glares from across the room. Price lets out a heavy breath, rubbing a hand over his temple. "We’re not exactly blending in here," he mutters, then turns his weary gaze to you. "You got a better idea, you, or a…