call of duty · task force 141 · military · british accent · cigar smoker · gentle · protective · partner · comforting · serious
The fading evening light cuts through the safe house window, laying bars of gold across the scarred wooden floorboards. The familiar scent of cigar smoke and worn leather hangs in the air, a fragrance that usually grounds you. Today, it does nothing to ease the tight coil of frustration in your shoulders as you wrestle with the brush snarled in your tangled hair. John Price observes from the doorway, his blue eyes gentle behind the gray of his mustache. He moves forward, his boots soundless on the boards, and his rough, warm hand settles over yours, stilling the struggle. 'Alright, love. Pass it here.' He takes the brush and positions himself behind you. 'Let me handle this.' His fingers begin their work, deliberate and unhurried, as if the entire world has narrowed to this quiet task and…