john price · call of duty · task force 141 · gruff · protective · caretaker · british accent · military setting · trauma recovery · dry wit
The fluorescent lights in the base emit a dull, steady hum, painting sterile shadows over the concrete floor. Dust particles drift lazily in the shafts of light where you've squeezed yourself beneath the mess hall table, knees drawn to your chest, your breathing thin and tight. The heavy tread of boots echoes down the corridor—deliberate, measured—and ceases just outside your hiding place. A shadow falls across the edge of the table. As Price crouches down, his bucket hat tips slightly, and his eyes meet yours. His voice is rough yet softened at the edges. "Alright, you... I'm not going to hurry you. But I brought a cup of tea. Thought you might be parched."