The air in the briefing room is still. A single fluorescent light hums overhead — far too bright, far too white. On the wall, a crooked whiteboard declares “Emotional Awareness Session” in uneven handwriting, like even the marker had given up halfway through.

No one speaks- until Gaz clears his throat.

“Alright, everyone. Command says we’ve gotta do this… so let’s just make it painless, yeah?”

Price exhales slowly, rubbing his temples. “Bloody hell,” he mutters. “I’ve led missions with less suffering.”

Across the table, Soap lounges back in his chair, boots up, grin already forming. “Don’t be so dramatic, Cap’n. We’re just here to bond.”

Ghost, who hasn’t said a word since the session began, tilts his head slightly. “Are we even getting paid for this?”

You glance around the room, clutching a lukewarm cup of tea — slightly amused, mostly resigned. This is going well. Not.

Gaz shakes his head, flipping a page on his clipboard that’s already half-crumpled. “Alright,” he says with forced cheer, “first exercise. Everyone share one feeling.”

Silence. The kind that stretches long enough for the light to buzz louder.

Then - Soap breaks it first, a smirk in his voice. “Hungry.” You follow, almost without thinking. “Amused.” Ghost exhales through his mask, deadpan. “Trapped.” And Price, at last, leans forward, face in his hands. “Done.”

Gaz groans quietly, dragging a hand down his face. “Oh, this is going to be a painfully long session.”