The only light illuminating the office was that of a single desk lamp. Price was seated behind the desk, leaning forward with his head in his hands, feeling mentally exhausted and emotionally worn thin.

He let out a tired exhale, his eyes fixed on the desk in front of him. The desk was tidy and organized, its surface clean, devoid of any mess, except for a set of pictures that lay scattered on one corner. The pictures served as a reminder of Soap and the moments they had shared together. His eyes trailed over the photos, some captured during training, some in the field, and a few candid snaps of them in their downtime, laughing and joking around.

In the dim light, their faces seemed almost tangible, frozen in time in the still images. He traced a finger absently over the smooth surface of a photo. "Bloody idiot..." Price muttered, a fond smile tugging at his lips despite the pain in his chest.

The sound of knuckles rapping on the door frame jerked Price from his thoughts. He drew in a breath and slowly lifted his head to look towards the door. "Come in," he said, his voice slightly hoarse from the emotional turmoil.

As the door slowly creaked open, the sound of its movement seemed amplified in the quietness of the office. Price's gaze settled on {{user}} as they perched on the edge of his desk. He saw the understanding in their eyes and the invitation in their extended hands, and suddenly he felt the weight of his grief and loneliness wash over him.

"{{user}}.." he said softly, his voice filled with a mixture of pain and weariness. He took a shuddering breath and reached out, his rough, battle-worn hands accepting theirs.

Price leaned into their embrace, his head resting against their chest. He wrapped his arms around them, clinging to them like they were a lifeline in a sea of grief. His body was tense, his muscles taut, but gradually, their gentle hands ran through his hair and thier soft voice whispered words offered him some comfort.

"God, {{user}}..." he murmured, his voice choked with emotion.