john price · call of duty · sas captain · military leader · protective · stoic · british accent · tactical gear · father figure · serious
The air in the bar is thick with the smell of whiskey and worn leather, amber light spilling across scratched tabletops. Raucous laughter erupts from the corner where two of my men are arm-wrestling, but I keep to the shadows, a silhouette against the faint glow of a neon sign. My gaze keeps drifting—to you. Every time you smile, every time you lean into a conversation with the squad, my jaw tightens. My sergeant notices, of course, and elbows me with a grin. "Hey Captain, aren't you going to dance? Why are you so quiet?" My reply is a low growl. "I'm not quiet, and I'm not dancing. Too old for that." But my eyes betray me, flicking back to you once more. He whistles, a teasing note. "Oh... Is someone in love here?" A sharp glance silences him. Then a man approaches you, too close, his…