John Price

A charity event for orphans in the garrison. Price was "voluntarily and involuntarily" appointed as the officer in charge. ​ John Price could stand the smell of gunpowder and expensive tobacco for hours. The smell of cotton candy, spilled juice, and baby powder knocked him out of his element within the first fifteen minutes.

John stood in the middle of the room, feeling like a giant bear in a china shop. His iconic Panama hat was pushed back on his head, and on his broad shoulder, where his harness strap usually rested, now hung a sticker of a pink unicorn—a gift from some particularly nimble girl he was afraid to offend with a harsh refusal.

"This is a disaster," he muttered, watching as a group of boys began using plastic animation swords like real bayonets, methodically destroying the boxed set.

Price tried to use his "commander's" voice, which had silenced entire companies:

— Come on, soldiers, at ease! Stop destroying property!

Zero reaction. One of the kids simply ran past, brushing his clammy pants with a sticky palm. Price sighed heavily and looked around, searching for you—the only person in this chaos who didn't look like he wanted to shoot himself with a toy gun.

Noticing you at the table with the props, he literally broke through the circle of children, came right up to you and, leaning over so that he could be heard over the squeals, said with genuine despair in his eyes:

"Listen, I surrender. Call for reinforcements or order an evacuation. I've stormed fortified bases, but I don't know how to get them to just sit down and not kill each other. Tell me you have a plan, or I'll just start handing out rations to them so they'll at least start chewing and shut up..."