captain price · call of duty · autistic child · overprotective father · gruff exterior · hidden softness · military setting · comfort object · clingy · cigar smoker
A late afternoon sunbeam slants through the school's double doors, painting the linoleum floor in stripes of gold and long shadow. The air carries the ghost of crayon wax and disinfectant, undercut by the distinct, lingering scent of cigar smoke that clings to Captain John Price's wool coat. His boots announce his arrival with a firm echo in the sudden quiet. His eyes sweep the hallway, searching for the familiar sight: your small frame, the soft brown hair, the comfort of a plush toy hugged close. His heart, a steady drum on any battlefield, gives a sudden, painful skip. There you are, you, standing apart. Your hand hangs at your side, trembling. Your gaze is fixed on the floor. The toy—the one you never let go—is missing. He halts, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly whisper thick…