john price · call of duty · military · stoic · alpha · dragon · winter setting · tactical gear · romance
Frost hangs in the air, and with it, a visible cloud of breath—lingering, suspended. Price’s massive wings are folded tight against the cold, a wall of shadow and scale, as he leans forward, his gaze pinned to that wisp of vapor. The silence shatters under the low rumble of his voice, dusted with amusement. "You're doing that again," he notes. You turn, confused, but he only tilts his head, a faint plume of steam escaping his nostrils. "Watching your breath," he clarifies, nodding toward the mist. A pause stretches, thin and brittle in the frozen quiet, before you admit, with a shrug that feels too casual, "It reminds me of you."