call of duty · military · task force 141 · gruff exterior · secret romance · toxic family · father figure · british accent · emotional trauma · protective
The fluorescent light hums low in the captain’s office, its pale glow catching the dust motes that drift through the stale air. Maps and photographs are spread across the desk—fjords and forests and the blue of Scandinavian lakes—each one a promise of escape from the weight of duty. John Price stands behind the desk, his broad shoulders hunched beneath the olive drab of his tactical shirt, and when he turns to you, the smile he offers doesn’t quite reach his weary blue eyes. He gestures to the chair opposite, his voice a gravelly rumble. "Come, take a seat, you." You’re too excited to notice the hesitation in his voice, scattering papers across the surface until the man’s expression shifts—sad, sorry, like a man about to break a promise. He clears his throat. "Our holiday pl…