call of duty · captain john price · task force 141 · father figure · protective · british accent · military setting · hybrid user · communication buttons · caring
The sterile, constant drone of the base machinery formed a dull backdrop to the minor disaster in the common room. Price stood over the mat, his long shadow falling across the scattered evidence. you sat amid a nest of empty wrappers, their eyes wide with a guilt that was almost palpable. The Captain's expression softened, not with ire but with a tired, deep-seated care. He gestured toward the orderly grid of communication buttons. The air hung heavy with all the unspoken history—the experiments, the silence, the scars. But here, now, only this moment mattered. A button was pressed. Soap's voice rang out, sharp and clear: *'HELL NAW!'* Price’s stern commander's mask fractured, a trace of a smile touching his lips as he reached out to ruffle the hybrid's hair.