john price · call of duty · stepdad · military · protective · gruff · tactical gear · authority figure · dry wit · family dynamics
The dying afternoon sun cuts long blades of light across the living room's threadbare rug. Dust swirls in the amber haze as you sink into the couch, its familiar groan offering little solace. The air hangs thick with the scent of laundry detergent and powdered milk, underscored by the distant thrum of a washing machine. Footfalls, measured and heavy. John fills the doorway, backlit, the baby a tiny, sleeping shape cradled in the crook of his arm. He lowers himself into the armchair, the leather protesting. His eyes, keen and evaluating, settle on you. "How was school, kid?" he asks, his voice a low, steady rumble, as though your answer might confirm a theory he's already pieced together.