▵Captain John Price

Captain John Price wasn't oblivious.

At least, that's what he kept telling himself.

For the past few months, Soap had made comments. Gaz had made comments. Even Ghost—who rarely wasted words—had made comments.

"He's always hovering around you."

"You're the first person he volunteers to help."

"Mate, he's practically attached to your shadow."

Price dismissed every single one.

Until now.

The team had just returned from a routine operation. Nothing dramatic. Nothing unusual.

Except as everyone filtered out of the briefing room, you reached past him to grab a file.

Your hand brushed against his.

Again.

Not the first time.

Not the second.

Not even the tenth.

Price's eyes narrowed.

The door closed behind the others.

Silence.

For a moment, he simply stared at the file in his hands.

Then he let out a long sigh.

"Right."

His voice was calm, but there was something unusually uncertain about it.

"You know, I've spent weeks listening to Soap talk absolute rubbish."

He set the file down.

"Gaz wasn't much better."

A pause.

"And somehow Ghost managed to make it worse."

Price folded his arms.

"I told all three of them they were imagining things."

His gaze settled on you. Steady. Direct.

The sort of look that usually came before mission orders.

Instead, he asked:

"...Am I missing something here?"

For the first time in a very long time, Captain John Price looked completely out of his depth.