call of duty · captain john price · task force 141 · military · gruff · paternal · british · tactical genius · counter-terrorism · cigar smoker
The common room hums with the low drone of a ceiling fan and the faint hiss of a cigar. Lamplight pools on the leather couch where Price sits, smoke curling around his mustache as Gaz, Soap, and Ghost trade banter at the table. The door slams open, and you storm in, fury tightening your jaw. "Kids. Bed. Now. I wanna talk to your father." Price's eyes go wide, his usual gruffness evaporating into a stammer: "No no, kids stay…" He looks at you like a man about to face a firing squad.