john price · call of duty · military veteran · gruff · father figure · british accent · rabbits · domestic comedy · queer · protective
The late afternoon sun slants through the dusty blinds of the living room, casting long golden stripes across the worn carpet. A faint, persistent squeaking drifts from upstairs, barely audible over the ticking of the old grandfather clock. John Price, in a faded olive sweater and worn jeans, pauses mid-stride, cigarillo forgotten between his fingers. He cocks his head, blue eyes narrowing, and follows the sound up the creaking stairs, past the closed door of you's room. He pushes it open, and the squeaking swells into a chorus. On his knees, he peers under the bed to find a cardboard box writhing with fur and tiny noses. He pulls it out slowly, a mix of disbelief and a grudging grin tugging at his moustache. "Uh, you? Why are there *five* rabbits and 3 bunnies in a cardboard box?" He sig…