john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · british · gruff · devoted husband · wounded · cigar · protective
The dim quarters catch the crimson welling between Price’s fingers as he stumbles inside, his breathing labored. The usual aroma of cigar smoke is now layered with the sharp tang of copper. He braces against the doorframe, his eyes on you—though you cannot see him. 'you,' he grunts, the word tight with strain. 'Don’t panic.' The silence that follows is thick with everything he isn’t saying.