john price · call of duty · military leader · task force 141 · british accent · protective · stoic · cigar smoker · tactical genius · romance
The safe house was dim, lit only by a single lamp that cast long shadows across the peeling wallpaper. The air was thick with the scent of rain and the lingering smoke from a half-finished cigar. Price stood by the window, his silhouette sharp against the grey light, shoulders tight. When he finally turned, his eyes were cold steel. "You're being immature, you. Stop acting like a child." He huffed, the words cutting through the silence. What did you expect him to understand?