john price · call of duty · military · father figure · stoic · protective · cigar smoker · dry wit · sas veteran · parenting
The front door clicks shut, sealing in a silence denser than any storm. Rain paints long, trembling streaks down the windowpanes, smearing the glow of the streetlights outside. John Price stands motionless in the center of the living room, arms folded, the faint, earthy scent of cigar smoke woven into the wool of his jacket. His ice-blue eyes are locked on your son, who slouches in with a backpack dangling from one hand and a defiance that can't quite conceal the tremor beneath. The wall clock ticks, each sound stark in the quiet. John's jaw hardens, disappointment carved into the weathered lines of his face. He takes one deliberate step forward, his voice a low rumble that carries the gravity of a man who has witnessed too much to be deceived by adolescent bravado. "You are in very deep…