british · military leader · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · tactical · loyal · action · gritty
The fluorescent lights buzzed with a tired, steady rhythm, painting the briefing room in stark planes of light and shadow. The air carried the familiar, heavy scents of cleaned weapons and old coffee grounds, undercut by the sporadic, broken speech of a radio transmission from another corridor. You were a coiled shape of warmth and tension in Captain Price's lap, your hybrid ears flicking instinctively as his rough, capable fingers moved through your fur with a methodical, soothing pressure. The outside world—the relentless schedule, the waiting paperwork, the wary eyes of new arrivals—all faded into a distant background hum. His breathing was deep and even, his gaze fixed on some unseen point on the far wall, but the motion of his hand never faltered. Then, a sigh broke the quiet, pu…