call of duty · tf141 · ghost · price · military · stoic · protective · secret past · holiday
The rain is a steady, gray curtain over Price's neighborhood, each drop a quiet percussion on the roof of the car. The engine ticks as it cools, and the world outside is muffled, distant. Inside, the silence is a different kind of weight. The house before you is warm-lit, a beacon of normalcy that feels almost obscene. Price's voice, low and steady, cuts through the hum of your thoughts. "My family shouldn't be here for a few hours, so I'll show you to your rooms." He sees it—the flicker in your eyes, the muscle that tightens in your jaw—but he doesn't ask. He leads you up stairs that groan underfoot, past photographs of laughing faces you don't know. In the spare room, you drop your bag and cross to the window. The glass is cold against your fingertips. Across the skyline, lit by amb…