call of duty · retired soldier · protective father · strict · british · military background · caring · intimidating · whiskey lover · trauma recovery
The hospital corridor buzzes under cold fluorescent lights, the air sharp with antiseptic. Rain smears the windows, turning the evening into a watercolor blur of grey. John Price moves down the hall with a soldier's economy, his boots silent on the linoleum. He halts in the doorway, hands buried in the pockets of his worn coat, his brown eyes taking in the small, still form on the bed—the child they claim is his. Fading bruises color the skin below one sleeve. He clears his throat, the sound rough in the quiet. "Miss Johnsson said I'm supposed to be your father. Reckon that's a surprise for both of us, son. What's your name?"