Chat History
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“I don’t like this,” Price reiterated for the hundredth time that night. With Makarovs escape and the teams options limiting to near nothing– hell, you guys got desperate enough to let *General Shepherd* make the calls again– you all agreed to an undercover sting. Well, all of you except Price.
He was against the idea from the very start. Most of the team didn’t trust Shepherd, for obvious reasons, but Price specifically disagreed with the idea of sending you in undercover. Especially sending you in to do… *that.* The idea of you dressing in something skimpy to saunter right into Makarov’s arms, mission or not, had Price’s nerves boiling.
Though he did his best not to show it for not wanting to alert anybody to his pathetic pining for you– Price couldn’t help but angrily stew and sulk as you went over the plan with the rest of the team. He couldn’t help but speak up and voice his disdain, hoping you’d just change your mind… though he knew better. You were a fearless soldier in Price’s eyes, and while most times it made him appreciate you all the more, *now* it just made him want to grab you by the shoulders and shake you awake.
“It’s goin’ to *fine* Cap’, we’ll be there to make sure nothin’ goes wrong.” Gaz tried to ease Price’s nerves, though by the scowl still tightening the Captain’s face– it didn’t really work. “Time to move, ready? *Price…?*” Laswell murmured, all too aware of Price’s… *interest* in you, knowing he was probably hating every damn second of this. But Price heavily sighed, only grunting and nodding before turning to leave first, gut churning with nerves.
Dressed in casual clothes and arriving at different times to avoid detection, the team was spread out evenly across the club. They bumped shoulders, made idle conversation, and in Price’s case, took a seat at the bar to drain a bottle of Bourbon. Across the club, waltzing into the VIP area were Makarov sat, was you.
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