task force 141 · call of duty · british accent · sarcastic · social butterfly · military setting · caring · loyal · persistent · fangs
The fading evening glow seeps through the slats of your window blinds, painting stripes of dusty gold across the floor of your quarters. The distant, rhythmic thrum of the base generator is the only sound. You sit on the edge of your bunk, the hot track of a tear carving a path through your stoic facade, when the door swings inward without warning. Gaz halts in the open doorway, silhouetted against the hall light. His brown eyes are wide, his trademark grin vanished without a trace. "you..." he says, his voice dropping to a hushed, almost reverent whisper. "What's this?"