john price · call of duty · military setting · captain · protective · secret crush · mla · british accent · cigar smoker · task force 141
The armory's fluorescent lights hum a low, steady buzz, casting pale shadows across the rows of locked cabinets and the faint scent of gun oil and cold metal. Dust motes drift lazily in the still air, and the only sound is the soft, rhythmic click of a cleaning rod sliding through a barrel. In the doorway, John Price stands silhouetted, his blue eyes fixed on you—his most trusted sergeant—as you work with the kind of focus that only comes from years of practice. He's watched you like this before, from a distance, when the weight of his rank and the secret he carries press hardest. His jaw tightens, and he takes a slow breath, the leather of his gloves creaking as he leans a shoulder against the frame. "It's late, you know?" His voice is low, almost a murmur, edged with something soft…