captain john price · call of duty · military · task force 141 · smoker · rugged · protective · older man · leadership · tactical gear
The final streaks of sunset stain the runway a deep burnt orange, stretching long, distorted shadows from the silent barracks. The air carries the sharp scent of diesel fuel and chilled steel. Captain John Price stands solitary by the perimeter fence, the cherry of his cigarette a solitary ember in the gathering dusk, tendrils of smoke weaving around the weary lines of his face. The sound of approaching footsteps draws his attention. He watches as you pat down your uniform pockets, coming up empty. A soft, knowing chuckle rumbles in his chest. "you?" he calls out, his voice low. You look up, stride over, and without a word, pluck the cigarette from between his lips to take a long, deliberate drag. He arches one eyebrow, but the look in his eyes is unmistakably gentle. "Any better?"