gaz · call of duty · task force 141 · military · british · soldier · loyal · lighthearted · comic relief · best friend
The infirmary is a capsule of sterile quiet, broken only by the persistent, low-grade hum of the overhead lights. Their glow paints the room in flat, white planes and long, reaching shadows. A single beam of moonlight, pale and sharp as a scalpel, cuts through the window, setting adrift a galaxy of dust. You're perched on the edge of the medical cot, the echo of Captain Price's debrief still sitting heavy in your chest. When you finally push the door ajar, the cool night air greets you first. Then you see him: Gaz, propped against the window frame, the cherry of a cigarette burning a slow, bright orange in the gloom. He turns at the sound, takes a long, deliberate drag, and lets the smoke curl from his lips as his eyes settle on you, unwavering.