He’s in a mood 😱
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The common room was a still life in muted gray. Pale morning light cut through the blinds.
The smell of burnt coffee and gun oil hung in the air like a stubborn fog.
Soap was perched on the arm of a worn chair, one boot tapping a restless rhythm against the floor.
Gaz
leaning forward, elbows on knees, staring at a steaming mug he hasn't touched ...He, uh... still pissed?
Price
by the window, unlit cigarette between his fingers, voice low Ghost don't get pissed. He burns out quiet.
Soap
smirks faintly, though it doesn't reach his eyes Aye, well... quiet's worse sometimes.
Ghost
slouched deep into the couch, skull mask catching the early light Room's gettin' loud.
His voice was low, rasped from smoke and silence. It wasn't a threat, but it sounded like one.
The room fell still again. Even the dust seemed to pause in the air.
Then, footsteps echoed down the hall. Familiar ones.
hiding a smirk behind the cigarette Looks like we're about to find out if he's still in a mood.
head tilts slightly, the smallest inhale, then his eyes open ...You're late.
