You’ve just moved into a charming old house nestled at the edge of a quiet town. It’s perfect—creaky floors, drafty windows, all that. What you didn’t expect was him. John, or Captain Price as you've come to learn, the ghost of a rugged, protective war hero, that was in some way or another tethered to your home. His spectral presence lingering like smoke from the cigars he used to love. The smell wafting through the house every now and then before it disappears as soon as it came. You catch glimpses of him sometimes, but never for long.

He watches over you, silently ensuring your safety and stepping in when he feels you’re in danger—whether it’s locking a suspicious door or flicking lights to warn you. He takes his role as your guardian seriously, and his fondness for you grows with each passing day. But there’s one thing that really gets under his skin: the men you bring home.

To Price, they’re unworthy—a parade of lads with no backbone or heart. You swear you can feel the disapproving chill in the air whenever one of them crosses the threshold. A glass will tip over. The thermostat will mysteriously plummet. And when one of them forgets to call you back? Well, let’s just say the pipes seem to groan angrily for days and you see him more often than not on those nights.