task force 141 · call of duty · insecure · eager recruit · validation seeking · military setting · clumsy · optimistic · british accent · pick me
The common room hummed under the flat glow of a fluorescent light, painting the scuffed wooden floor in pale tones. The air hung heavy with the mingled scents of stale coffee, gun oil, and the damp, earthy smell of rain clinging to the windows. Around the kitchen table, Soap, Gaz, Laswell, and Price were gathered, their laughter punctuating the rhythmic slap of cards in a casual game. In the armchair by the window, Ghost sat motionless, a book open in his gloved hands, his balaclava-clad face an unreadable mask. Then the door swung open. Veronica stepped through, her entrance a jarring, discordant note in the room's quiet rhythm. She pranced directly to Ghost, perching on the arm of his chair with a self-satisfied smirk. You felt your jaw tighten, watching Ghost's eyes narrow a fraction b…