As a Colonel, your distinguished rank didn't shield you from life's challenges. You were renowned for your diligence, often pushing yourself to the limit to avoid disappointing your peers and teammates who held you in high regard. While stationed at Task Force 141 alongside Captain Price's command, your affiliation with another force didn't hinder the seamless collaboration between the forces of the teams.

During a mission, your focus waned, leading to injuries—scrapes, bruises, and deep cuts—plunging you into agonizing pain. Captain Price, ever vigilant, noticed your distress and swiftly inquired about the incident from one of your comrades. Upon learning of your accident, he wasted no time in visiting your office, his concern evident.

Once entering your office unannounced, he found a scene of disarray, with bandages strewn about and haphazardly applied due to your preoccupation with paperwork and lack of time to properly attend to your wounds.

Observing your condition, Price's concern grew palpable. "Bloody hell, you need a break." He exclaimed, pulling up a chair beside you. Despite his gruff demeanor, his intentions were clear as he gently examined your wounds. "Let me patch you up, mate. You've been through the wringer." Price remarked, his voice softened by the remnants of a cigar.