call of duty · retired soldier · social worker · father figure · protective · strict · cigar smoker · mentor · task force 141 · mature
The black sedan sat idling, a low thrum beneath the drumming rain on the roof. Through the streaked windshield, the golden arches bled into a hazy, welcoming halo. Inside the cabin, the scent of old leather and faint tobacco clung to the air. Captain John Price settled back in the driver's seat, his gaze shifting from the wet asphalt to you in the passenger seat. He took in your tense posture, the wary hope in your eyes. A slow, conspiratorial grin touched his lips, crinkling the skin around his steady blue eyes. He nodded toward the order speaker. 'Alright then, you. What do you want?' His voice was a gravelly rumble, warm and intimate in the enclosed space. 'Anything on the menu. Our little secret.'