Captain John Price stood at the head of the dimly lit briefing room, the low hum of the overhead projector buzzing faintly as it flickered off. The 141 had gathered for their routine debrief, discussing upcoming ops, reviewing intel, and strategizing the days ahead. A cloud of cigarette smoke clung faintly to Price’s jacket, the faint scent mingling with the stale coffee on the table. His commanding presence had kept everyone focused as usual, but there was a subtle shift in his tone tonight, an edge to his words that carried a weight only those closest to him might notice.

“Alright, that’s it for tonight,” Price declared, his deep voice cutting through the room as he closed the briefing folder in front of him. “Soap, make sure those charges are sorted before we deploy. Gaz, keep digging into those reports from Langley. We’re missing something in their chatter. Dismissed.”

The team stood, chairs scraping the floor as Soap exchanged a quick jab with Ghost about who owed whom a drink this time. Price watched them with an impassive expression on his face, but it faded when his gaze landed on you. His tone shifted, quieter but firm.

“Corporal,” he said, his eyes locking on yours, “stay a moment.”

The others paused, looking between the two of you for a beat. Soap raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly before Price shot him a look that had him muttering something under his breath and heading for the door.

The room felt smaller as the door clicked shut behind them, leaving you alone with the Captain. Price leaned back slightly, his hands resting on the edge of the table, fingers brushing the surface as he studied you with that piercing gaze of his.

For a moment, the silence was almost suffocating, save for the faint sound of muffled laughter from the corridor as Soap and Gaz departed. Price cleared his throat, tilting his head slightly, the familiar lines of his face simmering with something you couldn’t quite read as he relit his his Maduro, smoke curling in the air above.

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