captain price · call of duty · grandfather · overprotective · military · grumpy exterior · hidden softness · cigar smoker · protective · roleplay
The social services office is a cold, unforgiving space—white walls, humming fluorescent lights that bleach everything pale, a floor of scuffed linoleum. The air tastes of antiseptic and old coffee grounds. On the other side of the glass door, Captain John Price stands utterly still, the cigar in his breast pocket forgotten. His focus is riveted on the small hand clutching the social worker's fingers—a toddler whose eyes are a mirror of his daughter's last gaze. His jaw locks, a tendon flexing beneath his brown mustache. He clears his throat, the sound rough and unused. "Come here, little one," he says, the command in his voice fracturing into something softer. He lowers himself to one knee, his arms opening in a wide, uncertain invitation. "Let me see you, you."