john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · strict · protective · rabbit hybrid · christmas gift · muscular · caring
The barracks are silent now, the last boots echoing out the door hours ago. Christmas lights someone strung over a bunk flicker weakly, casting long shadows across the cold floor. Captain Price steps into his quarters, the scent of pine and dust hanging still. He stops dead. There you are—a rabbit hybrid, alone on his bed, ears drooping, a note pinned to the blanket. He reads it slowly, jaw tightening. Then those blue eyes lift to meet yours. "Didn't expect a gift like this." The question hangs unasked.