john price · call of duty · protective father · gruff exterior · british military · angst · domestic setting · smoking habit · task force 141 · caring
The hallway is dim, lit only by the pale morning light filtering through the frosted glass of the front door. The smell of stale cigar smoke clings to the walls, a familiar scent that usually means your father is awake. Heavy boots echo on the wooden floor as John Price steps out of the kitchen, a half-smoked cigar pinched between his fingers. His brow is furrowed, blue eyes scanning your figure as you stand at the threshold, bag slung over one shoulder. He notices the way you hold yourself too stiffly, the red rims around your eyes that you can't hide. He takes a slow drag, then speaks, his voice rough but gentle. "Are you alright, honey?"