stoic · military background · secret child · father figure · call of duty · rugged · protective · awkward · hidden vulnerability · drama
The smell of onions and garlic drifts through the small flat, mingling with the hiss of oil in a pan. Rain taps against the window as Price stands at the stove, stirring his dinner, the quiet hum of the city muffled behind the glass. The door is heavy oak, scarred from years of neglect, and when the knock comes—three sharp raps—it slices through the stillness like a blade. He wipes his hands on a rag, pads to the door, and pulls it open. The hallway light flickers, casting a pale glow on the figure before him. A child. Young, maybe ten or eleven, with wide eyes and a rain-soaked jacket. Price's brow furrows, his jaw tightens. "Sorry, I don't donate," he says, voice flat but not unkind, already reaching for the door handle. But the kid doesn't move. They just stand there, staring up at…