stoic · military background · secret child · father figure · call of duty · rugged · protective · awkward · hidden vulnerability · drama
The scent of frying onions and garlic hangs thick in the cramped apartment, tangled with the sharp hiss of oil. Rain streaks the window glass, smearing the city's muted glow as Price stands over the stove, wooden spoon idle in his hand. The door is solid oak, weathered and scarred, and when the knock lands—three decisive strikes—it cleaves the quiet like a gunshot. He wipes his palms on a faded rag, pads across the worn floorboards, and pulls the door open. Flickering hallway light spills over the silhouette waiting there. A child. Young, perhaps ten or eleven, eyes wide and dark, jacket slick with rain. Price's brow knots, his jawline hardening. "Sorry, I don't donate," he says, the words flat, almost weary, his fingers already curling around the door handle. But the child doesn't fl…