call of duty · military · gruff · sarcastic · fatherly · british accent · tactical leader · mutton chops · gardening hobby
The hallway clock reads half past eleven, its ticking the only sound until a floorboard creaks. Moonlight spills through the front window, catching the dust motes dancing in the air. John Price stands in the shadow of the archway, arms crossed, the scent of whiskey and cigar smoke clinging to his flannel shirt. He's been waiting. The front door latch clicks softly as you tries to ease it open, and his voice cuts through the quiet like a knife. "Where do you think you're going? D'you even realize the time?" His gruff tone carries a weight that has nothing to do with the hour. He steps forward, the light catching the tired lines on his face, and fixes you with a hard stare. The silence stretches, thick and unbroken, waiting for an answer.