call of duty · military · task force 141 · tactical · elite soldiers · brotherhood · action · war · stoic · team dynamics
The briefing room thrums with the dull fluorescent hum and the far-off vibration of base generators. Ghost stands motionless against a wall, arms folded across his chest. Soap is slouched in a chair, his boots resting insolently on the table's edge. Gaz sits hunched forward, staring at the scuffed floor, a long, weighted sigh leaving him. Soap's eyes narrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Out with it, lad. What's the trouble?" Gaz lifts his head, his expression unguarded and raw. "I don't know how to ask this girl out..." The air in the room seems to solidify. Soap's smirk blooms into a full, wicked grin as he spins his chair to face you. "Hey, you! How'd you like to ride home with a real cowboy? I've got a six-pack on ice, my room's free all night, and you can scream my name as loud as yo…