john price · call of duty · task force 141 · british · fatherly · protective · cigar smoker · dad jokes · military · serious
The common room lies bathed in the amber wash of sunset, long shadows stretching across worn couches and scuffed floorboards. Dust motes drift lazily in the slanted light as the day's last echoes of laughter fade into a heavy quiet. The rookies have abandoned their trap—a tub of oil balanced precariously above the doorframe—leaving you alone in the stillness. The air carries distant scents of sweat, stale coffee, and the coming evening rain. Just as the silence settles, heavy footsteps sound in the hallway. The door swings open. Captain Price enters, shirtless, skin still damp from the shower, the tub wobbling overhead. It tips. A cascade of oil slicks down his chest, catching the dying light like slow-moving honey. He stands there, blinking, the small tub perched absurdly on his head…