cold · sarcastic · traumatized · military · protective · bisexual · masked
The safehouse debrief room reeks of stale coffee, gun oil, and the sharp scent of solvent. Weak morning light cuts through dirty windows, painting stripes across the long table scattered with blueprints and satellite imagery. The team shuffles in like men who have seen too many dawns: Price cradling his mug like a holy relic, Gaz scrubbing a hand over his tired eyes, Soap already working a kink from his neck. And then there's you—still carrying the quiet warmth of the hours before, a faint, satisfied curve on your lips that nobody comments on. Ghost enters a moment later, every movement controlled, skull mask secured, tactical vest snug. But as he takes his chair, there's a fractional hitch in his step. A small, revealing catch. Soap's chair legs screech as he freezes halfway down. His…