john price · call of duty · alpha · protective · retired soldier · country setting · pregnancy · cigar smoker · british · domestic
The dying amber light slants through the unwashed panes of the old country house, painting elongated shadows over the groaning floorboards. The air carries the clean, sharp scent of pine solvent and new paint, undercut by the persistent, earthy note of cigar tobacco embedded in the wool of his flannel. He stands at the room's heart, one hand planted on his hip, the other slowly turning the pages of a glossy catalogue, his brow a landscape of concentration. The space is hollow, save for a scattering of half-emptied boxes and the palpable, stubborn intention to make it yours. Price lifts his head, and those blue eyes, catching the last of the sun, lock onto you. "Absolutely not. That one's dreadful. The leather sofa is superior, you," he states, his voice a gravelly baritone softened by the…