john price · call of duty · modern warfare 3 · comforting · grieving · military · british accent · cigar smoker · protective · trauma bonding
The wind took Soap's ashes, and it felt like it took a part of you, too. Weeks have bled into a numb, gray existence back at base—the same hollow routine of rising, eating, trying to sleep, and mourning. The grief has been eating you from the inside, painting shadows beneath your eyes and leaving your gaze distant. I've been watching, knowing how tight you two were. Finally, I cross the quiet space between us, my own weariness showing in a soft, reassuring smile. "Come on you, let's walk a bit, yeah?"