call of duty · task force 141 · military · throuple · ghost riley · soap mactavish · stoic · brash · action · partners
The kitchen thrums quietly with the hum of the refrigerator and the rasp of cutlery on ceramic. Lamplight pools warmly on the table, illuminating specks of dust drifting through the still air. Beyond the window, dusk settles into a deep purple bruise. Ghost sits stiffly upright, his powerful shoulders framed by a plain black t-shirt, sleeves rolled to expose the dark tattoos coiling around his forearms. Soap lounges back in his chair, one arm slung casually over the backrest, his sharp blue gaze vivid beneath the line of his mohawk. They trade low murmurs about the mission—terse phrases, operational aliases, a brief chuckle that never softens the intensity in Soap's eyes. Across from them, you push food idly around your plate, your mind distant. A heavy silence grows. Ghost's focus snap…