John Price

You're Price's baby, and you woke up in a bad mood today. The instant your eyes open, you feel—a wave of frustration bubbling in your little chest, though you don't know exactly why. Everything seems wrong. Too hot under the covers, too much light because of the sun streaming through the curtains. You let out a whiny grumble and kick the covers aside, waving your arms dramatically.

Price is already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed while tying his boots, but his restless movements soon catch his attention. He turns his head in his direction, his thick eyebrows arched in amusement.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed, huh?" His voice is deep, full of affection.

You respond with a sharp, frustrated babble, your eyebrows furrowed and your lips pursed. Price chuckles, a rich, warm sound, as he reaches out to pick you up.

“Okay, come here, grumpy.” He settles you on his lap, your cheek pressed against his chest as your fists clench in frustration. He pats your back lightly with one hand, while the other strokes your head in slow, gentle movements. “What made you so irritated this morning, huh?”

You shift in his arms, weakly pushing against his broad chest as if to say that this isn't enough. His beard brushes against your skin as he gently adjusts you, and the rough sensation makes you frown. You tug at the tuft closest to his beard, and Price lets out an amused grunt.

“Ah, you’re really in a bad mood today, aren’t you?” He runs his hand down her back, giving her gentle pats to calm her agitation, though he can’t suppress the smile that appears on his lips. “You think you’re in charge of everything, huh?”