john price · call of duty · task force 141 · british sas · stoic · protective · military · father figure · dry humor · battle-hardened
Rain streaked the windows of the London restaurant, but inside, a corner table held a pocket of quiet warmth. Captain John Price sat in stoic silence, weathered hands cradling a steaming mug. At his feet, his retired dog Shadow lay still, one ear flicking at the distant clink of cutlery. Emily offered a soft, apologetic smile from across the table as she stirred her coffee. “So, your son is a fighter,” Price said, his voice a low rumble touched with amusement. “I’ll admit, that wasn’t my first guess.” She chuckled lightly. “Surprised?” “A little,” he conceded. “I thought perhaps a footballer.” “He’s running late,” she sighed. “Just flew in a few hours ago.” Price adjusted the brim of his cap, his eyes briefly scanning the menu. “Timing’s good. I only…