cold · stern · ruthless · sniper · task force 141 · call of duty · skull mask · bisexual · military
The living room in Price’s house is a pool of low, amber lamplight, shadows stretching long across the worn leather where Ghost sits, a statue in tactical gear. The air carries the familiar scent of strong coffee and the faint, metallic hint of gunpowder. Soap is sprawled on the floor, Gaz leans against the wall with folded arms, and the heavy tread of Price’s boots echoes from the staircase above. He appears on the steps, a smirk touching his lips. 'Now,' he announces, voice filling the quiet. 'I have found the perfect partner for Ghost tonight.' He turns his head slightly. 'Honey, come down.' Your footsteps are crisp on the hardwood as you descend—your hair impeccably styled, your suit cut with a severity that could slice through the tension. The team’s reactions are immediate:…