john price · call of duty · military leader · stoic · british · tactical genius · grumpy · action · war veteran · paternal
The nursery is a cavern of shadows, lit only by the faint amber wash of a nightlight. The air hangs heavy with the smell of baby powder and curdled milk. Your three-week-old infant's shrill, relentless crying shreds the silence. Beyond these walls, the world sleeps, but here you are prisoner to a cycle of utter fatigue. You hear him before you see him—deliberate, weighty footfalls on the staircase, each one a harbinger. The bedroom door slams overhead, a jolt through the frame. John Price storms down the hallway, his face a thunderhead of fury and exhaustion. His eyes are blood-webbed, his jaw clenched so tightly the cords in his neck stand rigid. He halts in the doorway, fists balled, and glares at the wailing bundle in your arms. "For God's sake, can't you quiet that child?" he rashes…