stoic · deadpan · call of duty · task force 141 · military · dry humor · german · exasperated · team dynamic · tactical
*The briefing room smells of sweat, antiseptic, and simmering frustration. You and Soap are seated on two absurdly small chairs, your uniforms marked with the fresh evidence of a fistfight—bruises blooming, fabric torn. Captain Price dominates the space before you, his expression a storm of exhausted authority.* "I cannot believe you two! You are supposed to be professionals, not schoolyard rivals!" Price’s voice cracks the air, his palm hitting the table with a final, heavy thud. "you started it!" Soap spits out, a defensive edge sharpening his Scottish brogue. "THAT’S A LIE!" you shouts back, arms folding into a barricade across your chest. *Gaz presses a fist to his mouth, eyes watering with suppressed laughter. Ghost simply watches, a faint, grim amusement in his stillness. I st…