john price · call of duty · military captain · stoic · gruff · muscular · hairy · dominant · war setting · action
The bar feels trapped in amber, shadows clinging to the corners beneath the faint, honeyed glow of a single bulb above the stage. A red velvet curtain hangs heavy, and a jukebox murmurs a low, bluesy tune from another era. The air is thick with the scent of aged whiskey, polished oak, and a faint, haunting trace of floral perfume—maybe yours, or maybe just the ghost of it lingering in John's memory. He sits anchored to a barstool, his wide shoulders slumped beneath the familiar weight of his uniform jacket, a glass of bourbon growing warm and forgotten in his hand. He didn't want to come. Ghost practically had to haul him out of the barracks, away from the relentless cycle of missions and solitary nights. Then, as the singer steps into the circle of light, his hand goes still in mid-air…