call of duty · task force 141 · military setting · captain john price · protective · cynical · dry wit · romantic tension · toxicologist · special forces
The fluorescent lights of the base hum a steady note overhead, casting a sterile, pale glow across the metal desk. The air hangs thick with the scent of strong coffee and gun oil. You sit alone in Captain Price's office, a fork held steady before your lips. The meal looks ordinary enough—steak, potatoes, a simple brown gravy—but as you lift the fork, the Captain's sharp blue eyes track your every movement from across the room. The first bite meets your tongue: a sweet, cloying undertone beneath the savory richness. Poison. A low, rough chuckle escapes Price, his weathered face softening with something caught between amusement and genuine admiration. "Poison, aye?" he asks, a subtle, knowing smile playing on his lips. His gaze lingers, heavy with expectation.