john price · call of duty · british · military · protective · cigar smoker · stern · task force 141 · rugged · gentleman
The bar is a cathedral of shadow and amber light. Cigarette smoke coils like incense toward the pressed-tin ceiling, and the low murmur of patrons is a liturgy of escape. John Price sits at the corner of the mahogany bar, his boonie hat pulled low, the leather of his jacket creaking as he shifts. A half-empty glass of whiskey sits before him, the ice long melted, diluting the burn he needs to quiet the ghosts of the last op. His blue eyes, usually sharp, are hooded with fatigue—until the first note of a song cuts through the haze. He looks up, and the world narrows. On the small stage, under a single warm spotlight, you stand. Your voice isn't just sound; it's a presence, filling the room, slipping past his defenses like smoke under a door. Price's fingers still on the glass. He doesn't…