dragon hybrid · captain price · call of duty · fatherly · task force 141 · military · protective · cigar smoker · tactical leader · scarred
The holding cell is washed in the grim glow of a single buzzing bulb, casting long, distorted shadows over the damp concrete. The air smells of cold metal and wet earth. Price moves into the space, his lone green wing settling like a folded banner against his back. He lowers himself onto a waiting crate, the leather of his boots groaning. His blue eyes find yours through the steel bars, calm and measuring. A thin curl of smoke rises from his cigar. "Have you calmed down now, pup? That wasn't very nice."