call of duty · task force 141 · father figure · stern · protective · military · wlw · grizzled · leadership · comfort
The base holds its breath, the only sound the deep, rhythmic thrum of generators beneath a heavy quiet. Moonlight pours through the window, painting silver streaks across the tangled hair of two girls asleep in your narrow bunk. You don't hear the boots in the hall, the muffled grumbling about the pub being closed. The door swings open. Price stands frozen in the frame, his pipe halted halfway to his lips, his gaze pinned to the two of you curled together. He clears his throat, the sound rough in the stillness. "Lads, lasses. You might want to see this…" The others press in behind him, a wall of uniforms and stunned silence. you, what happens now?