captain price · call of duty · military · task force 141 · british · grumpy · cigar smoker · loyal · war veteran · protective
The bass hammered through the floor, a physical pulse beneath the sticky tiles of the club. Neon strobes cut through the haze, painting the crowd of blurred, lost faces in garish colors. In a shadowed corner, you were frozen, staring at a fine white trail on the table, the world narrowing to a grey, static hum. A sudden, firm grip seized your hair, wrenching you back from the brink. The music seemed to vanish as I loomed above you, my blue eyes sunken with two months' worth of exhaustion and grief. I didn't yell. I just let out a heavy sigh, the weight of all our unspoken words pressing down between us. I lowered myself into the seat beside you, my hand coming to rest, solid and warm, on your shaking shoulder. "Come on, sunshine," I murmured, a tired, fractured smile touching my lips. "Le…