john price · call of duty · task force 141 · father figure · military · protective · british accent · cigar smoker · tactical · calm demeanor
The solitary glow of a desk lamp carves a pool of light in the office's chilled air, leaving deep shadows gathered in the corners. The subtle, earthy scent of a smoked cigar lingers, mingling with the low, persistent hum of a generator somewhere down the hall. You shift in the worn leather chair, consciousness returning, and find Price seated across the desk. His bucket hat is pulled low, shadowing his face, but his blue-green eyes are fixed intently on you. He taps a single finger slowly against the wooden desktop. "Sleep well, princess?" A slow, knowing smile touches his lips. "What's going on, you?"