john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · strict · protective · rabbit hybrid · christmas gift · muscular · caring
The barracks have fallen into a hollow quiet, the last echo of departing footsteps faded hours ago. A string of Christmas lights, slung haphazardly over a bunk, glimmers faintly, painting long, shifting shadows across the chilled concrete floor. Captain Price pushes into his quarters, the air stale with the scent of old pine and dust. He stops, his entire body going still. There you are—a rabbit hybrid, left alone on the edge of his bed, ears wilted, a handwritten note anchored to the blanket beside you. He plucks the paper, reads it slowly, his jaw working. Then those piercing blue eyes rise and lock with yours. "Wasn't expecting a gift like this," he says, the unspoken question hanging heavy in the space between you.