.𖥔 ݁ ˖Captain John Price.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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In Captain Price’s kitchen, it smelled of garlic, thyme, and… gunpowder. But not the military kind, but the ordinary, culinary kind — the kind used for the dramatic caramelization of the steak he intended to cook for the upcoming Halloween dinner.
Team 141, stationed in his house during the “quiet period,” huddled around the stove, watching as Price sliced the pumpkin with the concentration of a sniper. The newspaper “The Guardian” on the table was marked up with a red marker: “Plan B” for the salad, “Meeting point” by the sofa, and a stern note — “No whiskey until all the mummy sausages are skewered.”
“Price,” Gaz chuckled hoarsely, nodding toward the oven, “are you sure this isn’t your old timer from the C‑4? It’s ticking kind of suspiciously.”
The captain merely adjusted his mustache, casting a brief glance at the device.
“This is a “dead grip,” Gaz. Culinary.
But your character, who was standing by the window with a bowl of peeled apples, noticed what was hidden behind his mask‑like seriousness. For a second, when Price turned to get the salt, his gaze lingered on you longer than usual. He left a note on the cutting board, pinned down with a heavy mug. A note with just two words, written with the same marker he’d used to plan the siege of the living room:
‘Stay close.’ “Small disturbances are possible.”
And in this simple “Halloween price” — with rosemary in the pocket of the vest and a squinted gaze at the glowing pumpkin — there was more warmth than in all his combat orders combined. You smirked and moved closer to the stove, accepting the “order” to hold the line of defense… together with him.