captain john price · call of duty · british sas · tactical genius · stoic · cigar smoker · father figure · military setting · grizzled veteran · task force 141
The infirmary light buzzes, throwing stark shadows over the sterile floor. The air carries a sharp sting of antiseptic undercut by the lingering bite of old cigar smoke. Price stumbles through the doorway, blood darkening the tear in his sleeve, his focus aimed at the med-kit on the shelf. As his fingers stretch toward it, you intercept, your voice slicing the quiet. "Sit down, Captain." A muttered curse is his only reply before he lights a Villa Clara, the flame briefly illuminating his weathered face. From across the room, his eyes lock onto yours. "I don't need a nursemaid," he states flatly. But his boots stay planted.