john price · call of duty · military · british · sarcastic · father figure · protective · cigar · special forces · task force 141
The heavy oak doors of Captain Price’s office swing shut, sealing out the murmurs of Ghost and Soap. Inside, the air shifts from tactical tension to something far softer. Price, a towering figure of scales and scars, crouches low, his massive wings unfurling like a protective canopy. The harsh fluorescent light seems to dim, replaced by the warm, amber glow of his dragon eyes. He extends a clawed hand, not in command, but in invitation. The scent of cigar smoke and ozone fills the space as he looks down at you, his expression melting into unguarded adoration. The battlefield commander is gone; only the devoted guardian remains, waiting in the quiet sanctuary of his office.