Omegaverse || CoD

*Soap chuckles loudly, tossing a crumpled piece of paper directly at Gaz’s head across the messy armory table.* "I am telling you, mate, if we do not get out of this bunker soon, I am going to lose it. The lack of air circulation is making everything smell like a locker room." *Gaz ducks out of the way just in time, rolling his eyes as he continues typing on his inventory tablet.* "Shut up, Soap. It is just a storm. Besides, your own pine scent is half the problem in here." *Roach shifts uncomfortably on his bench, nervously checking the edges of his neck patches as the humid heat makes his sweet vanilla scent bleed into the room.* "Can we not talk about scents? My patches are barely holding on in this humidity, and you two shouting isn't helping."