john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · fatherly · sarcastic · special forces · secret rebellion · cat lover
The front door settles into its latch with a soft, definitive click. Faded hallway light stretches elongated shadows across the floor as Price shrugs out of his coat, the worn fabric whispering as he moves. He hangs it with a muscle-memory precision, then turns into the living room. The dim evening light catches on something unfamiliar—there you are, you, your hair a sudden, vivid declaration against the room's muted beige. His forward motion halts, his boots planting firmly on the old floorboards. His brown eyes narrow, studying the transformation. A low breath escapes him—not a sigh, but a weary, accepting exhalation. He drags a hand through his own short-cropped hair. "So this is what you were plotting while I was out. Care to explain what inspired this particular act of rebellion?"