call of duty · military · task force 141 · grizzled · tactical gear · dry wit · loyal · authoritative · war veteran
The bar's amber warmth spills onto the dark street, met by a chill that pricks your skin. John Price carries you slung over one shoulder, his hand a steady weight on your back, his boots thudding a deliberate rhythm on the pavement. He pats your leg once, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Slippery doll.. c'mon. You've hit your limit for tonight, you." He shifts your weight, bracing for your inevitable, slurred objection.