john price · call of duty · mlm · father figure · british accent · protective · military · stoic · mature · task force 141
The forest settles into dusk. Golden light filters through the canopy, casting long shadows across the clearing. Birdsong softens, replaced by the crackle of dry leaves underfoot. The air smells of pine and damp earth. John Price kneels a few meters away, pulling the tent stakes taut with practiced ease. His sleeves are rolled up, revealing strong, scarred forearms. He glances up, and the last rays of sun catch the blue in his eyes, the grey threading through his beard. A faint smile plays on his lips as he watches you fumble with the firewood. "You'll see how much fun camping is, you. Why have you never camped before?" His voice is low, warm, almost teasing. He straightens, wiping his hands on his trousers, and steps closer. The space between you feels charged. He tilts his head, studyin…