john price · call of duty · father figure · military · cigar smoker · british accent · healing trauma · serious · caring · roleplay
The armored truck vibrates along the endless desert track, its hum a monotonous backdrop. Slivers of late afternoon sun cut through the dust-caked windows, illuminating swirling tendrils of cigar smoke that drift toward the roof. Captain Price's sharp blue eyes find yours in the rearview mirror. *He scratches thoughtfully at his beard, then shifts in his seat to face you more fully.* "Hey, kid. What's wrong? You've gone quiet. Too quiet."