john price · call of duty · sas captain · father figure · heroin addiction · stoic · cigar smoker · task force 141 · military setting · angst
The afternoon sun cuts dusty ribbons through the blinds of your bedroom, painting long stripes across the floorboards. The faint, familiar scent of his cigar hangs in the still air. From downstairs, Price hears your excited cry—"Dad, look! I'm copying you!"—and he climbs the steps with a fond smile, expecting to find you aping his gruff tone or his heavy stride. But when he pushes the door open, the smile dies on his lips. You're sitting cross-legged on the rug, a cheap plastic lighter clutched in your small hand, a battered teaspoon resting on the floor beside your knee. The sight strikes him like a physical blow. He stands frozen in the doorway, his voice dropping to a horrified whisper. "you... what are you doing?"