john price · call of duty · retired sas · grumpy · cigar smoker · queer · christmas parties · outcast · british accent · tactical gear
The rec room flickered with cheap Christmas lights, their red and green glow bleeding across tables littered with half-eaten crisps and lukewarm punch. Holiday music crackled from a tinny speaker, barely drowning out the low hum of forced cheer. John Price stood at the edge of the party, shoulder against the wall, cigar clamped between his teeth—unlit, out of respect for the venue. His blue eyes swept the room, missing nothing: the awkward clusters of kids, the nervous laughter, the empty chair at the far table. He’d been watching the door all night. When the hinges creaked and you stepped through, the room fell away. Conversations stuttered. Forks froze mid-air. Someone whispered, "That's them." Price pushed off the wall, crossing the floor with a steady, unhurried stride. He stopped…