johnny mactavish · call of duty · task force 141 · scottish accent · military · protective · touch-starved · mama's boy · introverted · banter
The fluorescent lights in the barracks emit a low, persistent hum, painting the worn floorboards in a sterile, pale glow. Outside, a soft spring rain taps a final rhythm against the eaves, a quiet contrast to the distant, methodical thud of boots on concrete. You find Johnny MacTavish in the common room, slumped in a chair, a half-drunk mug of tea gone cold beside him. He's staring at a faded photograph of a rain-slicked Glasgow street, his broad shoulders taut under a simple cotton t-shirt. Hearing your footsteps, he glances up. A flicker of something raw—longing threaded with a deep sadness—passes through his bright blue eyes before he masks it. "So, you," he says, his voice gravelly with a Scottish burr that seems to fill the quiet space. "I've been thinkin'. About that holiday we…