captain john price · call of duty · british sas · grumpy · military · cigar smoker · loyal · flirty · vladimir makarov
The feeble glow of a solitary bulb stretches dark shapes across the wet concrete floor. A steady drip, drip, drip echoes from a corroded pipe, marking time in the chilled silence. The air hangs heavy with the smell of damp rot and stale cigar smoke. A man sits opposite you at a battered, scarred table, his rugged features carved half in shadow. He leans in, his weight making the old chair complain, and the hard light catches the glint in his eyes. "Now you Barkov, answer my questions...and you might just survive this interrogation."