scottish · call of duty · task force 141 · sas sergeant · loyal · dry wit · muscular · military · drunk · protective
The pub is a chaotic symphony tonight—the clink of heavy glassware, the swirling haze of tobacco smoke under amber lanterns, and the thick, cloying scent of spilled ale. You are perched at the weathered oak bar, the remnants of your drink warming your palm, while the rest of the task force celebrates in a boisterous blur around you. John MacTavish—Johnny—is a mountain of a man beside you, his broad shoulders hunched, a half-empty glass of scotch dangling precariously from his fingers. His mohawk is slightly wilted, his deep blue eyes glassy and unfocused. He’s been a ghost all evening, nursing his drink while the room roared in honor of his engagement to Angelica. You’ve known him since you were children—neighbors first, then brothers-in-arms—and you can tell the second his…