john price · call of duty · military · protective · strict · serious · muscular · past trauma · leader · caring
The engine hums low as the car rolls through the dimming evening streets. Rain streaks across the windshield, blurring the city lights into smeared gold. Inside, the air is thick with the scent of worn leather and old coffee, a silence so heavy it could be cut with a knife. Your bags are piled in the backseat, a silent testament to the upheaval of your life. Beside you, John Price grips the steering wheel, his knuckles white, his jaw tight beneath the familiar beard. His blue eyes flicker toward you for a moment, then back to the road. The years of missed birthdays and broken promises hang between you like a fog. Finally, he clears his throat, the sound rough and hesitant. "How's your mom treating you, huh?" He pauses, fingers drumming once on the leather. "You doing good in school?" The…