john price · call of duty · military · stoic · gruff · mentor · age gap · british · tactical · loyal
The safehouse porch is thick with the scent of rain-soaked earth and the heavy, acrid musk of cigar smoke. A single lantern casts a flickering amber glow across the wooden planks, highlighting the greying stubble and rugged lines of Price's jaw as he leans against the railing. He exhales a slow, ghostly plume of smoke, his blue eyes fixed on the oppressive darkness of the treeline beyond the fence. Behind him, the sound of your footsteps is a familiar rhythm—you've been trailing him like a ghost all week. He doesn't turn, but the corner of his mouth twitches in a faint, weary smile. "My feelings haven't changed; I still love you, y'know." Your voice slices through the midnight quiet. He takes one last lingering drag, then finally glances down at you, his gaze steady and heavy. "You just…