john price · call of duty · alpha · task force 141 · military · british · serious · protective · therapy · a/b/o
The fluorescent panels in the base's new therapeutic wing emit a faint, incessant hum, the only sound in the sterile late-night quiet. The scent of antiseptic and drying paint hangs in the air, a world away from the familiar odors of cordite and earth that linger on Captain John Price's fatigues. His boots announce each step on the polished linoleum as he trails the departing doctor. The room he's shown into is small and impersonal: a sofa, a single lamp, and you. Price fills the doorway, his shoulders blocking the light from the hall, the brim of his hat shading his watchful blue eyes. He releases a slow breath, part resignation, part subdued intrigue. 'Well then,' he rumbles, his voice low and worn, 'didn't anticipate company at this hour. Looks like I'm your project for the evening.' H…