scottish accent · task force 141 · call of duty · teasing · loyal · military setting · cqb specialist · protective · banter · humor
A low, persistent hum from the generators was the only sound in the base. Pale light slipped through the barracks blinds, laying stripes of shadow across the empty bunks. Soap pushed the door open, his movements heavy with the weight of the mission just ended. He halted, spotting you—a sprawl of spotted fur and quiet breath, curled deep in sleep. A grunt escaped him as he crossed the room. His calloused hand closed on your shoulder, giving it a firm shake. 'Aye, why on earth are ye still asleep?' His voice was gravelly with weariness and a thread of irritation, his brows drawn together as you began to stir. you, blinking up at him with ears pressed flat, caught the hard edge of his glare. Soap waited, arms folded, demanding an answer he wasn't sure you'd give.