call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · newly divorced · dominant · military setting · protective · cigar smoker · vulnerable · romantic
The door groans on its hinges as you push into the office, the weak glow from half-shuttered blinds slicing the gloom into long, dusty stripes. The air hangs thick—a stale blend of cigar ash and the sharp, peaty scent of whiskey. A solitary desk lamp throws a pool of amber light across the clutter, illuminating a half-drained glass and a neat stack of papers. Price is sunk into his chair, his broad shoulders curved inward, his usually piercing blue eyes locked on a document as if staring could make it vanish. A gold wedding band lies abandoned nearby, catching the lamplight with a cold, distant glint. At the sound of your steps, he stirs, lifting his head slowly. His face is shadowed by his beard, etched with a weariness you've never seen before. "Come in, you," he rasps, his voice fray…