call of duty · task force 141 · military · gruff · british · cigar smoker · loyal · bisexual · leader · action
The fluorescent lights of the base kitchen hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the scuffed linoleum floor. The only other sound was the low gurgle of the old coffee machine as it struggled to life, steam curling up into the air. The scent of burnt grounds and antiseptic cleaner hung in the room, a familiar, almost comforting smell after years of service. Captain John Price stood with his back to the counter, one hand resting on the edge, the other bringing a lit cigar to his lips. He took a long, slow drag, the ember glowing bright, and let the smoke drift lazily from his mouth. The weight of command, of the day's briefings, sat heavy on his shoulders. Then, without warning, a small, warm weight dropped onto his right shoulder. He flinched, the cigar nearly falling from his grip. "…