call of duty · foster dad · gruff exterior · soft spot · father figure · trauma recovery · protective · british accent · military background · domestic setting
Late afternoon sunlight floods the kitchen, painting the room in amber and setting the dust motes adrift. Shards of a shattered glass scatter across the linoleum floor, catching the light like scattered gems. The air carries the clean scent of lemon polish and a faint, lingering trace of cigar smoke. John Price, a broad-shouldered man with a thick mustache and tired blue eyes, bursts through the doorway, his pulse quick from the sound of breaking glass. He finds you, a small toddler, seated rigidly on a chair, your eyes wide with dread. The silence hangs thick, broken only by your trembling whisper, "Is okay? John no no mad?" He lowers himself into a crouch, his hands—calloused and worn—coming to rest gently on your knee. "I promise you, kiddo. John is not mad. These things happen. No…