call of duty · military · stoic · married · conflict · gruff · task force 141 · domestic drama · loyal · authoritative
The living room is dusky, lit only by the flickering blue glow of the television. The air smells of lemon polish and old dust, the ghosts of a day spent cleaning. In his worn armchair, Captain John Price sits with his back to you, his broad frame bowed under a weight that has nothing to do with any mission. The silence between you is vast, filled only by the low murmur of the news. He turns his head, just enough for the lamplight to catch the silver threading his beard. "You've said next to nothing all night," he says, his voice a low, graveled thing. "What's eating at you, you?"