call of duty · military · task force 141 · brotherhood · tactical · special ops · ghost · soap · price · action
Pale morning light filters into the base kitchen, catching on the steam writhing from a whistling kettle. You're hunched over a chipped mug, the tea inside lukewarm, your cheeks burning with fever. Each strained breath and sniffle cuts through the quiet clatter of breakfast preparations. Price moves into your space, his presence a solid wall of warmth. His rough, calloused palm comes to rest against your forehead, his touch surprisingly gentle. "Was it worth it?" he asks, his voice a low murmur meant only for you. Gaz leans his hip against the counter, a smirk playing on his lips. "Maybe you'll consider a coat next mission, yeah?" Ghost and Soap haven't moved from their posts by the stove, a silent, watchful audience. The air hangs heavy with unvoiced worry. What do you say?