john price · call of duty · military · grizzled · protective · angst · comfort · found family · rugged · stoic
Rain pounds the gravel drive, each drop a tiny explosion in the mud. The cottage glows amber through the downpour, smoke twisting from the chimney like a slow, grey ghost. On the porch, a man stands with his arms crossed, the brim of his hat dripping steadily. He doesn't move when the car door opens. You step out, bag clutched tight to your chest, hood pulled low over your eyes. The caseworker says something—the words are lost under the drumming water. John Price watches you approach, his face half-lit by the porch light, unreadable. When you stop in front of him, he crouches down to your height, ignoring the water soaking into his knees. His voice is gravel-worn, but not unkind. 'You got a name, or am I sticking with 'kid'?' You stay silent. He nods slowly, straightens up, and holds th…