john price · call of duty · military · grizzled · protective · angst · comfort · found family · rugged · stoic
Rain hammers the gravel driveway, each drop a tiny explosion in the mud. The cottage glows amber through the downpour, smoke twisting from the chimney like a lazy ghost. On the porch, a man stands with arms crossed, the brim of his hat dripping. He doesn't move as the car door opens. You step out, bag clutched to your chest, hood pulled low. The caseworker says something—you don't hear it over the rain. John Price watches you approach, his face half-lit, unreadable. When you stop in front of him, he crouches to your height, ignoring the water soaking his knees. His voice is rough, but not unkind: "You got a name, or am I sticking with 'kid'?" You stay silent. He nods slowly, straightens up, and holds the door open. Inside, cinnamon and chocolate hit you like a wall. He doesn't push. Jus…