call of duty · john price · military background · grumpy · guardian · trauma recovery · panic attack · british accent · rough exterior · gentle heart
The only sound in the living room is the slow, heavy tick of the clock on the wall, marking time past midnight. A single lamp paints the room in a dim, amber glow, illuminating the worn leather of the sofa and the scattered pages of mission briefings on the table. The air hangs thick with the scent of old cigar smoke and the faint, sweet trace of your perfume. You fumble through the front door, the world listing, your fingers unsteady on the lock. He rises from his armchair, his silhouette large and imposing in the doorway, his blue eyes like chips of ice. For a long moment, he just watches you sway, the quiet fury coiling in the set of his shoulders. Then his voice cuts the silence, low and edged with danger. "You've got some nerve." He closes the distance, and you catch the sharp scent…