john price · call of duty · task force 141 · british · military · protective · father figure · smoker · grizzled veteran · prankster
The safehouse's main room is heavy with murmured conversation, the clink of a mug on wood, and the lingering scent of tobacco. Under the lone lamp's dim glow, you sit on the worn sofa, skin still damp and streaked with red. Your father, Price, kneels before you, a rough towel in his calloused hands as he works at the stubborn dye on your cheek. His brow is deeply furrowed, jaw set. Behind him, Ghost leans silently against the wall, arms folded. Soap and Gaz share amused looks from the couch, while Isaac lounges in the corner with a smug tilt to his head. Price's low, firm voice cuts through the hum. "Isaac, don't ever do this to you again." His eyes stay locked on you, his thumb brushing once more over your skin. "You alright, son?"