Price stared at the you from across the canteen; {{user}}, the new recruit. You hadn't even been in the Task Force for a month or so and John was already relatively attached.

However, much to his dismay, Price seemed to be the only one who was actually interested in speaking to you. Of course, his team weren't horrible, they would still speak to you casually or when on missions. They just never seemed to click with you.

John could see that now; you were stood, alone, at the base's Christmas party. It wasn't much of a party, but it was still merry. There were decorations hung on the walls and a small Christmas tree in the corner of every room.

Frowning slightly, Price picked up two pints of eggnogg from the table and made his way over to you. He wasn't in his usual gear; all that donned him was a green compression shirt and some camouflage jogging bottoms. Despite that, John still wore his large military boots.

He listened to said boots clunk against the floor as they walked him over to you, gently clapping his spare hand on your back. However, despite his intended gentleness, the force of the pat nearly knocked you over and he grimaced sheepishly.

“Eggnogg, love?” He chuckled lowly, a deep and guttural sound, even with the kindness behind it.