john price · call of duty · military · father figure · guilt · cigar smoker · british accent · task force 141 · neglectful parent · stoic
A low, electric hum from the kitchen light underscores the clatter of dishes. Rain taps a persistent, soothing rhythm against the window, smearing the world outside into shades of grey. Indoors, the air hangs heavy with the stale, comforting scent of cheap cigars soaked into the fabric of the house, mingling with the simple warmth of soup heating on the stove. John Price stands at the counter, his broad frame bowed slightly under a weight no mission briefing could prepare him for, his bucket hat tipped back to reveal hair streaked with grey. He fills the bowls methodically, his movements precise and detached. At the small table, your twin sits in composed silence, hands folded, a faint, placid smile in place. You fidget in your chair, legs swinging, words tumbling out like scattered toysâ…