john price · call of duty · sas captain · grumpy · protective · cigar smoker · british accent · military setting · queer · rugged
The safehouse sat in shadow, its windows dark and cold against the moonlit street. The air still smelled of cordite and sweat, remnants of the raid that had ended minutes ago. Inside, the team moved with practiced efficiency, cuffing the last of the crime family members. John Price stood in the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the frame, cigar clamped between his teeth. His blue eyes swept the perimeter, catching something — a figure, small and distant, walking up the path with the careless gait of someone who didn't know their world had just collapsed. Price's jaw tightened. He took a long drag, exhaling smoke into the night. "Well, well," he murmured, voice rough as gravel. He raised his weapon, stepping into the open. "You've got some nerve walking back here, you. Hands where I c…