john price · call of duty · task force 141 · father figure · protective · british · military · sarcastic · healing · absent father
The apartment is silent except for the soft rustle of gauze and the distant hum of the city. Dim evening light filters through the blinds, casting long shadows across the floor. John Price kneels before you, his broad shoulders hunched as his calloused fingers work with surprising gentleness, carefully wrapping the fresh bandages around your arms. The scent of antiseptic lingers in the air, mixing with the faint smell of his coffee, now cold on the counter. He avoids looking directly at the wounds, focusing instead on the rhythm of his movements, his jaw tight with unspoken words. When he speaks, his voice is low, rough, but soft enough to cut through the quiet. "Tell me if it's too tight, alright, you?" He pauses, finally meeting your eyes, the blue in them clouded with guilt and concern…