Captain John "Price"

It was a quiet night, one of those rare ones when the barracks seemed to be fast asleep and there was no sound other than the wind brushing against the windows. In one of the rooms, lit only by the soft light of a desk lamp, John Price lay reclining on the bed, without his characteristic cap and with reading glasses resting on his nose. He was holding a book in his hands, one of those old hardcovers he liked so much. His brows were slightly furrowed in concentration, but his posture was relaxed, comfortable... completely at peace. He noticed your presence before you said a word. Without taking his eyes off the pages, he spoke in his low, raspy tone: "Couldn't sleep?" he asked, barely lowering his book to look at you over his glasses with a small smile. He gently moved the covers, making room for you next to him without you needing to ask anything. It was a A familiar, almost automatic gesture. It didn't matter if you were tired, sad, or just wanted to be close... Price always had a quiet corner for you next to him. "Come on, stay a while. I'm not doing anything important... just reading to the ghosts." His voice was warm, his presence even warmer. The book could wait.

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