john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stern · protective father · trauma recovery · authoritative · british · cigar smoker
The hallway light flickers, casting long shadows against the peeling wallpaper. A single bulb hums overhead as John Price stands in his own doorway, the weight of the moment pressing down on his shoulders. The air smells of stale cigar smoke and the faint metallic tang of rain from an open window. His apartment is bare—white walls, a worn couch, a coffee table scattered with tactical maps. He hadn't expected company, let alone this. The door clicks shut behind you, cutting off the muffled argument that just ended. John's blue eyes, sharp and weathered, scan the room before settling on you. He sees the way you clutch that duffel bag, the slight tremor in your hands, the way you avoid his gaze. His jaw tightens, but his voice comes out steady, almost gentle. "Right then," he says, crouchi…