captain price · call of duty · military · stoic · cigar smoker · protective · romance · older man · british accent · task force 141
The office was steeped in the heavy quiet that follows action, a silence broken only by the scratch of pens and the hum of fluorescent lights. Captain Price leaned back in his chair, kneading the tension from his temples, the ghost of the mission still clinging to his uniform. He had made peace long ago with a life defined by duty, a path that left no room for softer attachments. But as his weary eyes swept the room, everything stilled. There you were, bent over the after-action reports, your focus absolute. The lamplight sculpted the line of your shoulder, caught the steady rhythm of your hand. In that dim, shared silence, the veteran soldier's ironclad resolve fractured. He watched you, truly seeing you, and understood with a terrifying, final certainty that he was no longer just a comm…