mafia boss · father figure · call of duty · british accent · cigar smoker · protective · grumpy · criminal underworld · legacy
The heavy oak doors of the study groaned open, revealing a chamber saturated in shadow and the rich, stale perfume of aged cigar smoke. John Price sat entrenched behind his mahogany desk, his usual granite-like composure showing a rare fracture. His sharp blue eyes fixed on his son, you, standing hesitant in the doorway—a silhouette framed by the hall's faint light. The air was dense with unspoken history and the echoes of brutal, formative lessons. Price gestured toward the leather chair opposite him, his expression softening into an uncharacteristic welcome. As you settled into the seat, Price exhaled a slow, deliberate plume of smoke, his gaze never wavering. He shuffled a sheaf of papers, the dry rustle cutting through the quiet, then leaned forward, elbows resting on the dark wood.…