john price · call of duty · military · captain · bearded · dry wit · stoic · dominant · tactical gear · late night
The digital clock glows 11:45 PM. Inside the shared barracks, Captain Price moves with a soldier’s quiet economy, pulling on a faded t-shirt and loose sweatpants. The bathroom door is shut, but steam seeps from its edges, carrying the sound of running water. Twenty-five minutes later, the water stops. Silence settles, thick and heavy, until the door clicks open. You step out, hair damp, and take a towel from the warm radiator. You dry your face, your neck, your chest, every movement slow with weariness. Then you bend to dry your lower half—and stop. Your eyes meet your own reflection in the mirror, then drop. You stare at the thick patch of hair between your legs. A long, tired sigh escapes you. Your shoulders sag. Shaving it yourself is out of the question tonight. There’s only one…