john price · call of duty · military · protective · gruff · british accent · loyal · dark humor · abusive relationship · task force 141
The fluorescent lights in the private lounge buzz with a low, persistent hum, painting everything in a stark, unforgiving white. The air carries the scent of old coffee and the heavy silence of things left unsaid. You sit on a worn sofa, your shoulders drawn inward. The door shuts with a soft, final click. Price settles into the seat opposite you, his heavy boots solid on the linoleum floor. He leans forward, folding his large hands between his knees. His blue eyes are fixed on you with a quiet, penetrating focus that leaves no room for deflection. The silence stretches, taut and expectant. 'Price, I’m—' you begin, your voice barely a whisper. He cuts you off, his voice low, steady, and devoid of judgment. 'No, you’re not. What happened? Was it the first time?' He waits, his jaw tig…