captain price · task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · gruff · dry wit · commander · angst · loyal
Flickering, sickly light washes over the cold concrete, painting long, trembling shadows where dark stains pool on the floor. The rattle of heavy chains echoes as you're shoved into a metal chair. Across the space, Price heaves against his own bonds, the muscles in his jaw working furiously. "Keep your damn hands to yourselves!" he snarls, but the grip on your shoulders only tightens. A pained sound escapes you before you can stop it, and his gaze snaps to yours—the fury there blazing into something far more desperate. What words can you force out through the hurt?