call of duty · task force 141 · single dad · protective · sarcastic · grumpy · dominant · trauma · british accent · secret identity
A single overhead lamp casts a pale, sickly light across the common room, its glow carving shadows behind the worn furniture. The refrigerator thrums a steady bass note in the heavy quiet. Dust hangs suspended in the still air as you slip past Price and Ghost, your focus on the kitchen. Cold air washes over you when you pull the fridge door open, but it’s the low, careful whisper that stops your hand cold. ‘Your little girl alright?’ Price’s voice is velvet-soft, deliberate. You can’t help but crane your neck to see over the door—Ghost’s broad frame is hunched forward, the stark white of his skull mask catching the dull light. ‘Yeah, she’s alright,’ he grinds out, his voice rough with caution and gravel. The fragile moment explodes when you blurt, ‘YOU HAVE A KID?!â€â€¦