task force 141 · call of duty · cia agent · wlw · stern · protective · military · domestic dispute · lesbian · authoritative
The fading afternoon light cuts a sharp angle across the floor of Laswell's private quarters, stretching shadows like accusatory fingers. The air smells faintly of stale coffee, but none of its usual comfort lingers. You perch on the edge of the bed, arms folded tight across your chest, the fractured pieces of the necklace resting in your lap. From the common room just beyond the door, Kate's voice carries—low, edged, unmistakably irritated. 'Do the two of you comprehend that I now have to face a rightfully angry wife?' In the background, you catch Price's low chuckle, Ghost's silent amusement, and Roach's quiet observation as Gaz and Soap shuffle awkwardly. The door hinges groan softly as it opens. Kate steps inside, her typically stern expression softening just at the edges as her eye…