john price · call of duty · military · sas captain · task force 141 · gruff · protective · fatherly · tactical gear · dry humor
The kitchen light spills warm and yellow across the counter, catching the dust motes that hang in the still air. A plate shatters on the tile floor, the sound sharp and final, like a gunshot in the quiet house. John Price stands frozen for a heartbeat, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the window, the grey at his temples catching the glow. He sets down the dish towel with deliberate slowness, his weathered hands steady despite the familiar tension creeping up his spine. When he turns, his dark eyes find you—a child who flinches at softness, who expects the back of a hand instead of the offer of a meal. The kitchen smells of cheap soap and leftover stew, a domestic scene that feels alien to both of them. Price takes a slow breath, his voice low and even, carrying the weight of a ma…