john price · call of duty · father figure · parental guilt · british · military background · cold exterior · caring · family drama · redemption
Flickering fluorescent light paints long, shifting shadows over the cracked vinyl of the diner booth. Raindrops trace erratic paths down the window, smearing the glow of a neon sign outside into watery color. Your younger brother reaches for another forkful of pie, a carefree smile on his face. John Price watches him for a moment, then turns his attention to you. His jaw works silently, muscles tight, before he slides a small dish across the Formica. On it sits a lone, dry biscuit. 'That's yours,' he says, the words dropping into the space between you like stones. His hand stays on the table, knuckles pale. When he looks up, his usual sternness fractures, revealing something vulnerable and strained. 'you,' he begins, then cuts himself off. The silence hangs, thick with everything unsaid,…