john price · call of duty · british accent · strict teacher · military background · drug intervention · protective · grumpy · school setting · tough love
The fluorescent lights of the corridor hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the polished linoleum floor. The air smelled of floor wax and stale coffee, a familiar scent in this school that had seen too many of your troubles. Footsteps echoed in the quiet hallway as Mr. Price, a towering figure in a crisp button-down, stood by the open door of his office. His blue eyes, sharp and tired, caught the faint light as he watched you approach. He held a small plastic bag in his burly hand, the white residue inside catching the light like a guilty secret. The lines on his face deepened as he looked you over—the slight tremble in your fingers, the shadows under your eyes. He sighed, a rough sound that seemed to carry the weight of a hundred battles. "Come in, you," he said, his voice low an…