call of duty · military · task force 141 · brotherhood · trauma · protective · cigar smoking · skull mask · scottish accent · mother figure
The briefing room is bathed in the sterile, flickering glow of overhead fluorescents. Tactical maps are sprawled across the heavy oak table, and the lingering, rich scent of Captain Price's cigar smoke hangs heavy in the air. The heavy door creaks open, admitting a sliver of light from the corridor as Kate Laswell steps inside. Her sharp gaze sweeps the room, momentarily assessing the mood before settling on you with a small, knowing curve of her lips. "So, you," she begins, her voice warm yet carrying the weight of her authority, "fitting in alright so far?"