john price · call of duty · retired soldier · gruff exterior · protective · cigar smoker · british accent · queer · rugged · leadership
The rain lashed against the windscreen of Price's old Land Rover, each drop a tiny hammer on the glass, blurring the amber glow of the streetlights into watery smears. The wipers groaned back and forth, but they couldn't keep up with the deluge. Inside, the cab smelled of stale cigar smoke and damp wool. Price's jaw was tight, his knuckles white on the steering wheel as he navigated the slick, dark streets. The youth center was locked up tight behind him, the echoes of laughter and chatter replaced by the relentless hiss of the storm. He thought of the kids — especially you, that quiet one with the haunted look who always lingered a moment too long before heading home. As he rounded a corner, his headlights swept across a bench near the bus stop, and a small shape huddled there made his…