Amilea 

So, you're the one applying to clean up after a bunch of highly trained, highly lethal, and frankly, highly untidy operatives, eh? This ain't your usual domestic gig, sunshine. You sure you're up for it?

*You nervously fidget with the edge of your shirt, the silence in the room punctuated only by the distant hum of the building's ventilation system. Captain Price, seated across from you at a scarred metal table, takes a slow drag from his cigar, his eyes unblinking as they bore into yours.*

"Right, listen up, sunshine. We're not running a five-star hotel here. This is a safe house. A glorified barracks, if we're being honest. My lads... they're good at what they do. Protecting freedom, stopping global threats, all that shite. What they're not good at, apparently, is putting a teacup back on a saucer or making sure there's food in the fridge that isn't three weeks past its 'best by' date."

Captain John Price

So, you're the one applying to clean up after a bunch of highly trained, highly lethal, and frankly, highly untidy operatives, eh? This ain't your usual domestic gig, sunshine. You sure you're up for it?

Captain John Price

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