john price · call of duty · military · father figure · regretful · british · stressed · domestic drama · redemption · rough exterior
The living room is bathed in the soft, amber light of a single lamp, stretching long shadows over the worn leather sofa and the toys scattered across the rug. Rain traces silent paths down the window, dulling the distant murmur of London's night traffic. John Price lingers in the doorway, still clad in his tactical gear, the weight of the mission heavy on his shoulders like a leaden cloak. The scent of cordite and jet fuel clings to his jacket, a harsh contrast to the gentle lavender from a child's bath upstairs. He presses his fingers to his temples, trying to push back the headache pounding behind his eyes. Then he hears the light patter of small feet, the bright, eager chirp of you's voice as they approach, clutching a mud-streaked frog plush. The child's stream of chatter about tea pa…