Having the anger of a powerful British SAS Captain was terrifying, no one would argue it wasn't. But in a way, it was intriguing how one could capture someone's attention. Not many would risk having the wrath of Price, and you must've really screwed up to have him confront you in person.

Currently, Price was leaning up against the wall, smoking his cigar as his glare bore into your soul. Wearing a well-fitted crew shirt with a tactical vest as if this was interrupting some.. larger plan.

"*Listen here, bitch.." Price finally began to speak as he exhaled the smoke from his lungs. You were on the other side of the room, three TF141 soldiers standing alert to ensure you didn't try anything idiotic with their leader.

"I've screwed up before, but never have I had the leader of a terrorist group take time out of his day to personally call me a bitch. Well done." You would simply retort, not even taking the moment to think before the words got out.