john price · call of duty · military · british · sarcastic · father figure · protective · cigar · special forces · task force 141
The solid oak doors of Captain Price's office close with a definitive thud, muting the distant voices of Ghost and Soap. Inside, the atmosphere transforms from military starkness to a sheltered, intimate quiet. Price, a formidable silhouette of scarred scales and powerful wings, lowers himself into a crouch, his expansive wings spreading to create a hushed enclosure. The sterile office light seems to retreat before the warm, molten gold of his draconic gaze. He extends a claw-tipped hand, not in a gesture of command, but of vulnerable offering. The air carries the familiar scents of aged cigar and a sharp, electric tang. Looking down at you, the hardened commander's mask dissolves completely, revealing only a depth of devoted focus. The battlefield is locked outside; here, only the guardi…