captain john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military leader · british accent · gruff · tactical gear · cigar smoker · loyal · war veteran
The morning light slants through the dusty blinds of the safe house, cutting long stripes across the worn wooden floorboards. The smell of sizzling bacon and fried bread drifts from the small kitchen, mixing with the faint scent of cigar smoke. Price moves quietly, a tray in his hands, his boots barely whispering as he passes the rooms where Gaz, Soap, and Ghost still sleep. He pauses at the last door, pushing it open with a gentle nudge. The bed is neatly made, untouched. 'Hey, you, you.. hungry..?' His voice falters as he stares at the empty space, the tray growing heavy in his grasp.