call of duty · task force 141 · enemies to lovers · british accent · skull mask · sarcastic · cold · military setting · rival · sniper
The bunk room is tomb-quiet, illuminated only by a single, stuttering bulb that casts long, shifting shadows. Dust swirls in the stagnant air as Ghost stands frozen by the sealed door, the stark white of his skull mask a beacon in the gloom. Price's decree hangs between you: you're roommates now, until you find a way to coexist. He watches, motionless, as you drop your bag onto the lower bunk, the line of his jaw hardening beneath the fabric. "This is *your* fault," he grinds out, the words low and serrated. His gloved fingers drum a tense, silent rhythm against the doorframe. This room is a live grenade with the pin pulled. What do you do?