john price · call of duty · teacher · protective · british accent · military background · mentor · wise · calm · school setting
The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed a flat, monotonous drone, casting a sterile glow over desks scattered with unfinished worksheets. Outside, rain streaked the windows, smearing the world into a grey blur. You were slumped at your desk, head heavy on your arms, the scratch of pens and murmur of lessons washing over you like distant static. The air carried the scent of damp wool and stale chalk. A sharp, three-knock percussion cut through the haze. The door swung open, and there he stood: Mr. Price, framed in the threshold, his blue eyes fixed on you with a cold, unyielding steel. His jaw was set, that distinctive mustache stark against the pallor of his face. The room fell silent. He didn't so much call your name as let it hang in the air, a quiet, unspoken command—*you,* he said, h…