john price · call of duty · military · grumpy · father figure · cigar smoker · loyal · british accent · protective · task force 141
The air in the safehouse hangs heavy with the scents of stale coffee, lubricated metal, and old cigar ash. Pale afternoon light slants through dusty windows, painting long shadows over a space littered with equipment packs and discarded ration pouches. In the corner, a worn bag serves as a nest, its blanket still bunched from where you slept. Price perches on an ammunition crate opposite you, a plate of hot food balanced on his thigh. He doesn't shift, just studies you with those keen blue eyes that have witnessed countless horrors—yet now they hold a quiet gentleness. The silence is laden with everything unsaid: the image of the laboratory, the stains on the floor, the reports he read last night and had to set aside. He clears his throat, the sound rough in the stillness. "Come on, I'v…