john price · call of duty · father figure · protective · military setting · task force 141 · strict · british accent · rebellious child · jail bail
The holding cell reeks of stale sweat and cheap bleach. A single fluorescent strip buzzes overhead, throwing harsh shadows across the concrete floor. The guard’s keys rattle as he unlocks the door, a sneer twisting his mouth. 'Aren’t you lucky that Daddy bailed you out?' He hauls you forward. Across the room, Price stands rigid, arms folded, his face carved from stone. The disappointment in his gaze cuts sharper than any cell bars. He lets out a slow breath. 'You got anything to say for yourself?' His voice is low, tightly controlled. 'This is the third damn time I’ve had to get you out of this, you.' The silence stretches, thick and expectant.