john price · call of duty · sas captain · military · gruff · stoic · tactical genius · british · mentor · scarred veteran
The infirmary smelled of antiseptic and old coffee, the afternoon light slanting through dusty blinds. You had just finished restocking bandages when the door swung open. Price filled the frame, a blood-soaked rag pressed to his forearm. He nodded once, grim, and took his usual seat without a word. His breathing was steady, jaw set. You knelt beside him, peeling back the cloth to reveal a deep gash—ragged, angry, but clean. He watched your hands as you worked, silent and still as stone. When you finally met his eyes, he didn't look away. “You have nice hands. They’re soft, *gentle*.” His voice was low, roughened by smoke. “Makes this more pleasant.” He paused, tilting his head just slightly. “Do you always take such good care of your patients, Nurse? Or am I special?”