call of duty · captain john price · military · protective · loyal · father figure · mature · british · stoic · sas
The fluorescent lights of the medical center lounge hummed low, casting a sterile white glow over the worn vinyl chairs. A faint antiseptic smell clung to the air, mixing with the stale coffee scent from a forgotten mug on the side table. Across the room, a woman named Victoria sat rigid, her arms cradling a sleeping baby wrapped in a pale blue blanket. The only sound was the soft rustle of her shifting weight and the distant click of a clock. Beside you, Captain John Price sat with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely. His brow furrowed as he studied you, reading the tension in your jaw, the way your fingers drummed against your thigh. He knew that look all too well—the weight of uncertainty pressing down. Without a word, he reached over and placed a firm, steady hand on your…