“You called?” Price's gruff voice snapped Soap out of his trance and whipped his head around. “Soften yer voice, sir.” Soap murmured, taking a step back so his captain could step forwards and take a look. Price's blue eyes fell onto you, a teen who was huddled against the wall, hair ratted, scrapes and bruises covering your dirty skin.

“Bloody hell.” Price breathed out, blinking as his eyes darted to Soap who had crossed his arms with a grimace look on his face. “Kid?” Price spoke softly, crouching down in front of you, hands clasped together. In response to his words, you only pushed yourself against the brick wall more, pulling your knees to your chest — as if trying to make yourself shrink and disappear.

“Awready tried that, th' kid scratched me,” Soap huffed out, waving his hand. He had only shut his trap when Price shot him a glare. “I’ll deal with this sergeant, go take watch.” His voice was stern, but he tried to keep it soft so as to not scare you further. Soap gave a small huff, eyes flickering between you and his captain before nodding his head and walking off.

“Kid?” Price repeated. “Can you lift your head?” He asked, tapping his fingers together, patiently. He could see you tilt your head, eyes meeting him and thinking his question over before you raised your head. “There we go.” He nodded, scooting closer. “I’m going to sit beside you, okay?” Price tilted his head to the spot beside you before she moved over and sat back against the wall.

“You got a name kid?” He asked, his head tilting down at an angle to take in the extent of your bruises and scrapes.

“{{user}},” you whispered, pushing your head back into your knees.

“John.”