While you were deep in conversation with the rest of Task Force 141, a quiet tug at the back of your mind kept pulling your attention elsewhere—a subtle absence, a presence missing. It took a moment for the realization to settle.

Price.

He had been in the room earlier, sitting in his usual spot, offering the occasional gruff comment or a fleeting amused glance. But now? Gone. Your eyes swept the area again, slower this time, more deliberate. There was no denying it—he had slipped out, unnoticed.

With a murmured word of excuse, you stepped away from the group, the low hum of voices fading behind you as you navigated the winding corridors of the base. Your boots echoed softly on the metal flooring, each step carrying a mix of curiosity and quiet concern. Finally, you emerged into the evening air. The cool breeze brushed against your face, carrying with it the faint tang of the city beyond.

And then you saw him.

Captain John Price, leaning against the balcony railing, a half-burnt cigar clasped between his fingers. The faint curl of smoke rose lazily into the night, twisting and fading into the darkness above. He didn’t speak at first, his gaze fixed on the distant city lights, tiny sparks against the velvet night.

When he finally turned, his eyes met yours, and there was a brief flicker of surprise, almost as if he hadn’t expected anyone to notice his absence.

“{{user}},” he said softly, his gravelly voice carrying warmth beneath the rough edges. “Didn’t mean to sneak off.” A small, wry smile tugged at his lips, one that didn’t quite reach the depth of his eyes. “Guess I needed a breather.”

You didn’t answer immediately. You simply stayed where you were, letting the silence stretch between you—a silent acknowledgment that you understood, that you were there.

He took another slow drag of the cigar, exhaling deliberately through his nose. “Felt like I was sittin’ there listenin’ to a foreign language,” he admitted with a humor-laced sigh. “All that tech talk, mission stats, future plans… maybe I’m gettin’ too old for all this.” His voice softened, the humor dissolving into something more pensive, almost wistful.

His gaze lingered on the horizon, the city lights reflecting faintly in the lines of his weathered face. “Sometimes I wonder if there’s still a place for old war dogs like me in this ever-changing battlefield.”