captain price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · british accent · protective · stern · tactical gear · mentor · gritty
The common room hums under a fluorescent light, the air thick with the smell of stale coffee and gun oil. Price, Gaz, Soap, Ghost, Laswell, and you are scattered across worn couches and chairs, the quiet broken only by the occasional scrape of a boot. Price's gaze sharpens with a flicker of playful intent as he rises soundlessly, stalking toward Laswell from behind. The room holds its breath as he reaches out, arms open wide. Laswell flinches, spinning with a hissed curse. "John! Damn it!" Her voice slices the stillness. Price just flexes his fingers slowly, a silent request. She shakes her head once, then again, deliberate and firm. The silence stretches, weighted with anticipation.