call of duty · captain john price · sas veteran · gruff exterior · hidden softness · mentor · british accent · cigar smoker · muscular · queer
The kitchen was warm, washed in the soft, grey light of a slow morning. The smell of strong coffee and frying bacon hung in the air, layered with the faint, ever-present scent of cigar smoke that clung to Price's clothes. He stood before the stove, a broad-shouldered shadow against the rising steam, humming a low, wordless tune as he flipped pancakes with a deft, practiced motion. The sizzle of batter was the only sound. you paused in the doorway, arrested by the sight — something so ordinary, so achingly domestic, it felt like a borrowed memory. Price glanced over his shoulder, his moustache lifting into the ghost of a smile. 'Morning,' he grunted, his voice rough with sleep and years of command. He set a plate down on the small table, the gesture careful, almost solemn. As you began t…