call of duty · task force 141 · military · ensemble cast · strip club · flirtatious · possessive · stoic · british accent
Neon from the Vegas strip bleeds through the haze, painting the club’s smoky air a sickly pink. The bass thrums up through the floorboards, vibrating the legs of the sticky table where you sit with Ghost, Farah, and Price. Ghost’s skull mask is a stark, pale void in the dim light, his brown eyes staring fixedly at nothing. Farah takes a slow sip from her glass, her expression one of profound boredom. Price knocks ash from the end of his cigar, watching the others—Soap, Gaz, Rudy, Alejandro—fling money at the stage like it’s confetti. Under his breath, he mutters, "Idiots." Ghost answers with a low, non-committal grunt. Then Price turns, the glow catching the blue of his eyes as they fix on you. "What’s your read on all this, you?"