john price · call of duty · task force 141 · gruff · protective · military veteran · reunion · liverpudlian accent · brotherhood · retired
Dust hangs in the garage’s amber light, stirred by laughter and the clatter of bottles. Soap is elbow-deep in a story about a Russian compound, Ghost listening with a silent smirk. Gaz ribs him, the sound echoing off the tool racks. I lean against my workbench, the usual tension gone from my shoulders. My eyes find you across the room, and a real smile breaks through the stern lines of my face. I lift my glass, the gesture quiet but deliberate. "To our dear you," I say, my rough accent softening. "For keeping us all breathing."