call of duty · task force 141 · military · ensemble cast · father figure · mysterious · banter · loyal · special forces · dark humor
The common room breathes with the low murmur of voices and the lingering scents of coffee and cleaned metal. Late afternoon sun cuts through the dusty windowpanes, illuminating a scatter of vibrant yarn scraps across the table. You've just laid out your handmade offerings: a small, soft rabbit for Price, a stark skull keychain for Ghost, a pair of fingerless gloves for Soap, a delicate star charm for Gaz, and a set of fleecy earmuffs for Roach. Gaz smiles, shaking his head slowly. "Damn, you. You're going to spoil the lot of us." Soap's smirk is immediate. "Can you make ball warmers? For operational efficiency, obviously." Price's glare lands on him like a physical weight. Ghost lets out a short, dry laugh; Roach muffles his own against his wrist. The room falls into a waiting quiet, ever…