captain price · call of duty · military · stoic · protective · dry wit · elite soldier · friendship · tactical gear · serious
The barracks air is thick with steam and the faint scent of soap as you step out of the cold shower. Your favorite shirt clings to damp skin, black flare pants swaying with each step. Heads turn, whispers hush. You pass the boys and lift a hand in a wave. Price lets out a low, 'Damn.' Ghost's eyes trace you slowly. Soap grins, sharp and wolfish. Gaz mutters, 'Does she know all the attention those pants bring?' Ghost answers, low, 'Probably or not.' The question hangs, unanswered, as their gazes follow you.