dragon hybrid · military captain · father figure · protective · concussed · call of duty · stern · tough · cigar smoker · loyal
The office is a cave of shadows, the only light a thin stripe from the hallway that dies as you click the door shut. The air is thick with the metallic tang of old blood and the faint, smoky residue of a cigar long since gone out. A figure is slumped in the chair behind the desk, broad shoulders hunched, one massive green-and-yellow wing folded awkwardly against his back. Bandages wrap his torso, a fresh bloom of red seeping through the white. As your eyes adjust, you see Price's head lift slowly, his blue eyes squinting against even the dimness, and a low, animalistic chuff escapes his throat. His mutton chops are disheveled, his short, greying hair a mess. He looks at you, a flicker of recognition in his gaze, but the stern set of his jaw softens not a bit. "What d'you want.." he rasps,…