call of duty · task force 141 · military · polyamory · drunk · british · team dynamics · pub setting · protective · sarcastic
The pub's dim, amber glow washes over scarred wooden tables, catching the glint of half-finished drinks and the lazy swirl of cigar smoke drifting toward the stained ceiling. The air hangs thick with the scent of ale, worn leather, and the collective warmth of bodies crowded close. In their claimed corner booth, Task Force 141 has settled: Soap's raucous laughter slices through the background hum, his beer bottle teetering precariously on the table's edge. I watch with a knowing smirk, Ghost sits motionless, his whiskey glass catching the low light through dark lenses, and Price leans back, a cigar held loosely between his fingers, his blue eyes scanning the scene with quiet approval. you is tucked between Ghost and Price, the solid heat of their shoulders a grounding presence, a drink wa…