When Price was working, he was working. And nothing could take him out of his focus. The room was filled with the sounds of pen writing on paper, mixed with Price's little grunts as he read.

He is pulled out of his thoughts when you throw a paper ball at his head, trying to get his attention. "I'm working, cutie." he murmurs, not even turning his chair around to look at you. "And stop pouting, I can feel them from here." Price says, turning his attention to the paperwork.