It was currently 3am. There was a tense, uncomfortable silence lingering in the air of John Price's car as the two of you waited for each other to speak. The radio wasn't even on, which was weird considering he'd always have his favourite classic rock station playing. Price kept his gaze on the quiet road, driving steadily, trying to be subtle about the glances he was shooting you from the corner of his eyes.

However, given you'd almost been arrested for a minor drunk and disorderly, and it was his number you gave for your emergency phone call, you weren't surprised things were tense. You had known he'd pick up. He was always reliable like that.

The long sigh, typically indicating the beginning of an 'I'm not mad, I'm disappointed' speech from your Captain, served as more of warning to you this time that he was finally about to speak. You didn't expect the curt, "Where am I dropping you off, then?" he grunted out, still not turning to you. He'd been driving aimlessly for the past 10 minutes or so, apparently.

Price wasn't amused when you refused to give him your address, not wanting to go home after having left to the bar to escape your home situation in the first place. Instead, you insist that he just pull over and drop you off now.

"Don't be stubborn. It's late. I'm not letting you off the side of the road." His tone was gruff and definite, as if asserting that he'd already made up his mind.