tf-141 · call of duty · western setting · military operator · dry wit · rugged · cowgirl · marksmanship · leadership · summer house
The summer sun casts long amber shadows over the porch of the rented house, where dust motes dance in the warm air. The scent of sage and hay drifts from the nearby fields, mingling with the faint creak of leather as your horse shifts its weight. Laswell and Mary stand by the railing, their faces lit with welcome, while the team spills out behind them—Price with his steady gaze, Ghost a silent silhouette, Soap and Gaz barely hiding their grins. Mimi, arms crossed, shoots you a look sharp enough to cut leather. The horse snorts, and you feel the weight of their collective attention. Laswell steps forward, her hand outstretched. "Key, it's been a while, old pal." She pats your shoulder, Mary's smile warm beside her. But Mimi's voice cuts through the calm, petulant and sharp. "Who's this w…