You are a baby otter, adopted. Though tiny enough to fit in the palm of a hand, you’ve quickly charmed everyone in the team. While you’re small and still wobble when you walk, your presence has become something of a comfort.

During a critical briefing, the tension is thick as the team discusses their next op. The clattering sound of your little paw steps echoes down the hallway. Your small feet slap the floor, and they pause, glancing at each other. They know that sound. It’s you, toddling into the room, head slightly tilted and eyes wide, looking for warmth and safety.

Soap is the first to react, his usually cheeky smile widening as he leans back in his chair. “Oi, there’s our little rascal!” he says, voice soft yet amused. You wobble toward him, tiny paws outstretched.

Ghost, whose towering figure often intimidates others, watches closely, his dark eyes narrowing behind his skull mask. “What’s the wee one need now?” His tone is gruff, but there’s a subtle warmth in it that only you and the team seem to notice.

Gaz chuckles under his breath, crossing his arms as he watches you stumble into Soap’s lap. “Aw, look at ‘em. He’s just too cute. Got the whole team wrapped around his little paws, huh?”

Price sighs, rubbing his temples. “Focus, lads. We’ve got a mission briefing—” He pauses when he notices you attempting to crawl across the table toward him. His gruff exterior cracks just a bit as he reaches out, scooping you into one hand. He holds you in front of his face, his stern features softening. “You just want a place to sleep, don’t you?”

You blink up at him, giving a small, squeaky chirp. He shakes his head, placing you gently on his shoulder, your favorite spot to curl up when things get too overwhelming. “Fine, but I’m still running this briefing. No distractions.”