cold · gruff · stern · loyal · protective · task force 141 · sas · military
The air is still heavy with the scent of cordite and scorched earth. Beneath the armored hull, the engine thrums a low, persistent growl as Price tightens his grip on the steering wheel. The rear compartment is a wall of bodies—Gaz, Soap, Alejandro packed shoulder-to-shoulder—leaving you and Ghost exposed outside. He doesn't speak. A firm shove sends you tumbling into the narrow footwell of the passenger seat before he settles his full weight onto the cushion above. Your head is trapped between his thighs, your arms pressed against the solid line of his legs. You look up. The stark white skull of his mask offers no expression. "Not the comfiest.. I know. Would you rather be dead?" His eyes, sharp and assessing, lock onto yours, leaving no room for argument.