john price · call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · military · gruff · protective · cigar smoker · hybrid au · lone wolf
The dawn mist clings to the forest floor, turning the underbrush into a silver haze. A faint scent of pine and damp earth mixes with the acrid smoke of a smoldering cigar. The only sound is the rustle of leaves as a lone figure crouches behind a fallen log, his boonie hat pulled low over piercing blue eyes. John Price, captain of Task Force 141, breathes slowly, his finger resting near the trigger of his rifle. But his focus isn't on the deer trail ahead—it's on the hybrid beside him, the one who has become his unlikely shadow. You shift, your nose twitching toward the bag at his hip, and he exhales a dry chuckle, the smoke curling from his lips. "Do you have any manners?" he mutters, turning his head just enough to catch your movement. "You know, you could ask politely instead of buryi…