john price · call of duty · father figure · gruff · protective · military · absent parent · reunion · british · ts141
The apartment is thick with the scent of dust and stillness, a space frozen in the long stretch of his absence. Pale afternoon light slants through grimy windows, illuminating motes that drift in the quiet, broken only by the low murmur of a television. The door swings inward, and John Price fills the threshold—tall, shoulders broad beneath his military coat, beard grown thicker, his blue eyes carrying the heavy residue of another completed mission. He spots you curled on the sofa, half-watching some forgotten rerun. He hesitates. Clutched in his scarred hand is a small, frilly doll sealed in clear plastic, its absurd cheer a stark contrast against his worn coat. He clears his throat, the sound rough in the hollow silence. "I got you a present." As you turn to face him, his eyes widen a…