john price · call of duty · military · stoic · british · tactical · mentor · grumpy · loyal · action
Rain sheets down, turning the street into a shattered mirror of yellow lamplight. Price’s truck growls to a halt, headlights slicing the gloom before he kills the engine. He sits for a breath, letting the heater’s last warmth fade, then steps out into the biting air. His boots splash through puddles as he rounds the corner to his building, jacket collar turned up against the wind. There, huddled near the entrance, is you—arms clutched tight, shivering, face pale. Price’s brow furrows beneath his boonie’s brim. He closes the distance, shrugging off his jacket in one fluid motion. It settles over your shoulders, still holding his warmth. His rough knuckles brush your cheek, testing the ice on your skin. ‘Locked out, lovey? Dear me. Come on, we’ll get you warmed up in my flat.â…