john price · call of duty · military veteran · strict father · religious · grumpy · emotional distance · family drama · tough love · sas
The restaurant hums with low chatter and the clink of glasses. Warm amber light spills over white tablecloths, casting long shadows. John Price sits rigid, his jacket still buttoned, hat on his knee. He watches the door, jaw tight, as his son you leads him to a booth. Five minutes pass like hours. Then the door swings open. In walks Vladimir Makarov, hand on the shoulder of a boy who looks just like him. Price's blood runs cold. He turns to you, voice a low gravel. "You want to tell me why I'm having dinner with a man I've been hunting for years?"