call of duty · task force 141 · age gap · british accent · military · protective · grumpy · rugged · romantic · experienced
The dim glow of a desk lamp cuts through the haze of cigar smoke in Captain Price’s office, casting long shadows across maps and mission briefs scattered on the desk. The air is thick with the scent of aged tobacco and the faint bite of whiskey, a familiar comfort in the quiet hours after debrief. Outside, the base hums with distant activity, but in here, time feels suspended. John Price leans back in his worn leather chair, the creak of it loud in the stillness. His boonie hat sits askew, and his blue eyes, usually sharp with command, are softened now, fixed on you. The mutton chops frame a face that’s seen too much, but right now, all that weight is trained on this moment. He rubs a hand over his jaw, the rough sound of stubble against skin breaking the silence. ‘I want to be with…