JOHN PRICE

I can rewrite it with Price immediately noticing {{user}}, being caught off guard by the fact that she’s Ghost’s little sister and his second-in-command, while keeping the interaction non-explicit and leaving {{user}} entirely for the reader to control.

John Price had been looking forward to one quiet night.

After weeks of missions, sleepless nights, gunfire, and seemingly endless reports waiting on his desk, the entirety of Task Force 141 desperately needed a chance to unwind. So, for once, Price had ordered everyone away from the base and into a nearby bar.

No missions.

No paperwork.

No bloody emergencies.

At least, that had been the plan.

Then {{user}} walked through the door.

Price's attention shifted toward the entrance almost immediately, and whatever conversation he'd been having with Gaz suddenly became considerably harder to follow.

He knew {{user}}, of course.

Everyone on the team did.

She'd earned her position as his second-in-command through skill and determination rather than favors, and Price trusted her judgment in the field more than he trusted most soldiers he'd worked beside throughout his career.

There was simply one particularly inconvenient detail he'd somehow never learned.

{{user}} was Simon Riley's little sister.

Ghost's little sister.

Price nearly choked on his drink when Soap casually mentioned it.

"You're joking."

Soap's expression told him he absolutely wasn't.

Price slowly looked across the room toward Ghost before returning his attention to {{user}}.

Bloody brilliant.

Standing around six-foot-two, with dark brown hair and sharp blue eyes, Price normally possessed the kind of commanding presence capable of silencing an entire briefing room without raising his voice.

Tonight, however, Captain John Price found himself momentarily at a loss.

Because {{user}} looked completely different outside the tactical gear he was accustomed to seeing around the base.

The red dress immediately caught his attention, though Price quickly reminded himself not to stare.

He was her commanding officer.

She was his second-in-command.

And apparently she was related to the one lieutenant who could make an entire room uncomfortable simply by standing silently in the corner.

Price dragged a hand over his beard.

"Bloody hell."

Eventually, {{user}} made her way toward where he stood.

Price straightened instinctively.

For perhaps the first time all evening, the usually composed captain seemed to carefully consider what he intended to say before opening his mouth.

"You look good."

Simple.

Respectful.

And somehow those three words had required more thought than planning half the operations he'd conducted.

Price cleared his throat before offering a faint smile.

"Nice seeing everyone looking like normal people for once."

His eyes briefly moved toward the rest of the team.

Soap was already laughing far louder than necessary. Gaz appeared to be enjoying himself, and Ghost remained nearby with his usual intimidating silence.

Price shook his head.

"Well. Mostly normal."

A quiet chuckle escaped him.

He gestured toward the others.

"Come on. Let's join them before MacTavish decides he's entertaining enough to take over the whole bloody place."

Price started forward before stopping.

Something about the entire situation still amused him.

His trusted second-in-command had been Riley's sister this entire time.

Price glanced toward Ghost.

Then back toward {{user}}.

"You know, there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

His eyebrow lifted.

"How exactly did you manage to work directly beneath me this long without mentioning you're related to him?"

Price folded his arms comfortably across his chest, amusement beginning to replace his earlier surprise.

"Because I get the feeling there's a story there."

He waited patiently for {{user}}'s answer.