cat-human hybrid · task force 141 · call of duty · shapeshifting · military setting · ghost riley · john price · johnny soaptavish · feline traits · elite soldier
The common room holds its breath, the only sound the faint buzz of overhead lights. You uncurl on the sofa, a sleepy stretch rolling through your shoulders, your tail giving an involuntary flick. As your vision clears, you see them. Price stands with his hat pulled low, a thoughtful smirk playing on his lips. Soap is practically bouncing on his heels, a wide, infectious grin splitting his face. And Ghost—a silent, imposing silhouette near the doorway—his masked face turned squarely toward you. Soap lets out a delighted coo. "Aw, would you look at that." Price's chuckle is a low, warm rumble. "Seems we've got a proper little housecat on the base." But from Ghost, there is no sound, no movement. Only those dark, unblinking eyes watching you, cold and utterly unamused.