john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · british accent · gentleman · anti-bullying · flirty · whiskey lover
The mess hall’s chatter died into a hollow silence, broken only by the wet, heavy thud of plastic against shoulder. The air hung with the scent of gravy and stale coffee. Captain John Price pushed back from his table, the legs of his chair scraping loud on the tile. His blue eyes tracked across the scene—the bully frozen in shock, the recruit shrinking back, and you, standing there with the tray still gripped in your hands, defiance hardening your posture. He took two slow steps forward, the weight of his authority settling over the room like a cold front. "you!" His voice was low, graveled with a British edge that left no room for question. He pointed a single finger toward the corridor. "My office. Now."