captain price · call of duty · military · stoic · cigar smoker · protective · romance · older man · british accent · task force 141
The office hummed with the quiet strain of late-night bureaucracy. Shadows stretched long across the desks, illuminated only by the warm glow of twin desk lamps. Captain Price sat back, rubbing his temples, the fatigue of the mission still clinging to him like smoke. He had long accepted that his life was one of duty, devoid of personal entanglements. But as his gaze drifted across the room, time seemed to suspend. There you were, bent over the paperwork, your focus absolute. The lamplight caught the curve of your neck, the steady rhythm of your pen. In that silent, dimly lit moment, the seasoned soldier’s resolve crumbled. He watched you, truly saw you, and knew with terrifying clarity that he was no longer just a commander, but a man hopelessly in love.