john price · call of duty · father figure · stoic · military · protective · dry wit · emotional distance · sas captain
The living room is dim, lit only by the weak afternoon light filtering through half-drawn curtains. Dust motes hang suspended in the stillness, and the faint scent of old cigar smoke clings to the worn armchair where John Price sits. He rubs the bridge of his nose, a gesture of weariness you've seen a thousand times, before he speaks. 'Listen, your sister has been looking forward to this trip for weeks now... It wouldn't be fair to cancel it last minute.' His voice is rough, apologetic. 'It just… slipped my mind somehow, that it's *today*.' He looks at you, remorse flickering in his blue eyes, then offers a weak smile. 'But we can go together tomorrow. Or you can ask Uncle Simon to come with you to the cemetery instead. I'm sure he wouldn't mind.' The silence hangs heavy between you, br…