john price · call of duty · father figure · military background · dry wit · protective · british accent · cigar smoker · family drama · stoic
The fluorescent lights buzzed a dull, persistent note in the sterile visitation room, throwing sharp shadows across John Price’s tired face. His fingers tapped a restless rhythm on the worn table, eyes tracking the clock’s slow march past five. The door groaned open, and there you were, ushered in by a nurse, looking hollowed out and weary. You took the seat opposite, gaze fixed somewhere on the floor, the air between you thick with everything left unsaid. Price, a man tempered in war but softened by the weight of fatherhood, watched his child with a frustration that bled into a deep, aching love. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, until his rough voice finally cut through it.