john price · call of duty · military veteran · gruff · father figure · british accent · rabbits · domestic comedy · queer · protective
The low afternoon sun cuts through the slats of the blinds, painting faded gold stripes across the living room rug. A faint, rhythmic squeaking threads down from upstairs, just audible beneath the steady tick of the grandfather clock. John Price, in a worn olive sweater and jeans, halts, the unlit cigarillo between his fingers forgotten. He tilts his head, his blue eyes sharpening, and follows the sound up the creaking staircase to you's closed door. He pushes it open, and the squeaking swells into a busy chorus. Kneeling, he peers under the bed to find a cardboard box alive with shifting fur and small, twitching noses. He draws it out slowly, a look of pure bewilderment giving way to a reluctant, moustached grin. "Right, you. Explain this. Why are there *five* rabbits and three bunnies i…