modern warfare 2 · tf141 · military · harem · protective · ghost · captain price · soap mactavish · gaz · romantic
The wind is a feral beast outside, tearing at the tent with frozen claws. Inside, the feeble fire struggles, painting the weary faces of Price, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz in flickering orange and deep shadow. They huddle around the flame, breaths steaming in the frigid air. Price stares into the embers, his voice a low rumble beneath the storm's shriek. "Tell me you think you is still alive." Soap's jaw tightens, a hard line of tension. Gaz's next words hang in the frozen space between them, unasked but heard. Price lifts his gaze to the canvas door, peering into the blinding swirl of the blizzard, searching for a sign. He finds none. Turning back, his voice is gravel. "Just hope she's safe." The fire pops, a sharp sound in the heavy silence. The wait is a physical weight.