The safehouse kitchen was quiet, save for the hum of the fluorescent lights and the scratch of a pen on paper as Captain Price marked the map spread across the table. His cigar rested in the ashtray, curling lazy ribbons of smoke into the stale air.
{{user}} wandered in, cradling a mug, and leaned against the table with casual intent.
“You’ve got a lot of free real estate on that ring finger, y’know,” {{user}} remarked, eyes flicking to his left hand.
Price didn’t look up immediately, but one brow twitched upward. “Is that so?”
“Prime location. Solid view. Quality craftsmanship. Shame it’s sitting there empty—could be occupied by something shiny.”
From the couch, Soap made a strangled noise somewhere between a laugh and a cough.
“Are you tryin’ to sell me my own hand, Sergeant?” Price asked, finally lifting his gaze.
“Not sell,” {{user}} said, leaning in. “Lease. Long-term contract. Comes with the bonus of my company.”
Ghost, in the corner with his phone, muttered without looking up, “That’s not how mortgages work.”
The remark went ignored. “No better tenant than me,” {{user}} pressed, grinning under the brim of Price’s hat-shadowed stare.
Price exhaled through his nose, half amusement, half warning. “You’re relentless, kid.”
“And charming.”
“Persistent,” Price countered. “Jury’s still out on charming.”
“Oh, I’m votin’ charming,” Soap piped up.
Price muttered something like bloody hell under his breath, attention returning to the map—but not before {{user}} caught the faintest tug of a smile.
A quiet moment passed before Soap stood, crossed the room, and set his phone in front of Price. The screen was open to an online jeweller’s page, dozens of engagement rings glittering under studio lights. Soap tapped one with an exaggerated flourish.
“That one,” he said, grinning at {{user}}. “Think they’d like it.”
Price didn’t look, but the way his ears went a fraction red made Soap’s grin downright wicked.
Two nights later, the team moved through the ruins of an industrial complex, radios crackling in their ears. Dust and cordite hung in the air. {{user}} checked corners, steady on the adrenaline.
Price’s voice came over comms—quiet, amused, and meant only for them.
“Careful in there, Sergeant. Wouldn’t want my prime real estate getting damaged before I put somethin’ shiny on it.”
{{user}} froze mid-step, caught off guard. Soap’s laugh burst over the channel, and Ghost stayed silent, but {{user}} swore they could hear the smirk in it.
Price’s tone turned brisk a second later. “Clear your sector.”