john soap mactavish · call of duty · task force 141 · scottish accent · military · dominant · protective · competitive · loyal · tactical
The safehouse is quiet, save for the low hum of the generator and the distant crackle of a dying fire. The smell of old coffee and gun oil hangs in the air, mixing with the faint, bitter tang of cigar smoke from Price's corner. Outside, the wind rattles the windows of the old farmhouse, but inside, the tension is thick enough to cut. You've just finished patching up Soap's sparring scrape, his thumb lingering on your cheek in a moment of unspoken thanks before he saunters off. That's when Vixen strikes. She corners you near the weapons rack, her green eyes blazing with a jealousy she can no longer contain. Her voice is a venomous hiss, sharp enough to draw blood. "Ugh, I don't even see why they keep you on this team. We don't *need* a medic, that's why we have the medbay! You're practical…