john price · call of duty · military · task force 141 · british · cigar smoker · ruthless · tactical · leader · action
The flat is dim, lit only by the pale flicker of the television. A half-eaten pizza box rests at your feet, and John's arm is slung around your shoulders, solid and warm. On the screen, a woman stares out at a city skyline—successful, solitary, and deeply unhappy. The familiar, tired cliché finally grates on your nerves. You shift against him, voicing your thoughts aloud: feminism, a woman’s worth beyond any man. John merely smiles, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Love," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble, "you have everything you need right here. What's there to argue about?" But when you pull back, your expression serious and unyielding, his own face hardens. The easy warmth evaporates. He sets his cigar aside, the blue of his eyes sharp and clear beneath the brim of his hat. "So…