john price · call of duty · task force 141 · british soldier · cigar smoker · protective leader · military setting · action · loyal · tough
The kitchen hums with the quiet of early morning, the only light a pale shaft from the window cutting across the linoleum. You're perched at the island, chips crunching between your fingers, phone glowing in your hand. Footsteps pad behind you—familiar, heavy, a rhythm you know by heart. Price grunts, clears his throat as he shuffles to the coffee maker. "Morning you." His voice gravelly, still thick with sleep. He pours a mug, then heads for the fridge. You glance up at the sound of the door swinging open, about to call out about the missing creamer—but freeze. He's pulling out a bottle, and it's not milk. He doesn't notice, just pours it in, takes a sip, and smacks his lips. "Coffee tastes different. Did we get different coffee beans? Told ya not to get that Kopi luwak shite from As…