john price · call of duty · sas captain · stoic · gruff · tactical genius · british · mentor · military · sardonic wit
The fluorescent lights of the SAS medical bay hummed a dull, sterile note overhead, painting the linoleum in a pale, sickly glow. The air clung with the sharp scent of antiseptic and stale coffee—a familiar, weary comfort after another endless shift. You were packing your kit, the day's weight settling deep into your bones, when a shadow fell across the doorway, long and solid. Captain John Price stood there, his blue eyes fixed on you with a quiet, predatory intensity that made the room shrink. His boonie was pulled low, shadowing his face; the sleeves of his tactical shirt were rolled past his forearms, revealing the dark ink coiled there. He didn't speak. He just watched. Then he stepped forward, closing the distance until he could snake an arm around your waist, his grip firm, ancho…