Chapter Text
Price’s office wasn’t very large. There was enough room for a desk, two chairs, a filing cabinet, and a small loveseat squashed into the corner. There was a window conveniently by the desk, which stayed open all hours of the day to filter out any smoke that might accumulate from his cigars. It didn’t matter that there was a no-smoking policy indoors - Price’s office was the one exception to the rule.
Price’s desk was quite frankly a mess - though it was a controlled one, covered completely by an assortment of objects, yet somehow still organized. There was an ashtray that needed to be dumped, a military-grade laptop, and a mug that read world’s best Boss Captain/Dad (the last bit scrawled in Soap’s messy handwriting). There were also various paperweights, one such being a large rock hand-painted by Gaz. It was supposedly a ‘pet rock,’ though to Price it looked more like a rotting potato with googly eyes.
The desk had three drawers. The top, skinny drawer of Price’s desk was crammed with various papers that hadn’t yet made it into the filing cabinet. The second drawer was strictly for his boys. There were logic puzzles, silly putty, and fidget spinners - the last category was mostly for Soap, when the lad was having trouble keeping still. When he had a mission, Soap’s mind and body could put all focus on the objective. The trouble was the in-between time, when they were on base awaiting further orders. Soap’s hyperactive mind could get him into trouble if he didn’t have something to ground him.
There were also several packets of gum, colorful gel pens for doodling, a bag of orange lollies for Ghost, and an old PacMan pocket player (Gaz used that one the most). All of Price’s men were allowed access to the drawer, though more often than not it was Price who automatically dug in and passed around items during check-ins or briefings before the others could even request it. It was one of his many talents as the team captain - being able to know what his boys needed even before they knew it themselves.
The last drawer was dubbed ‘hodgepodge.’ It was full of various items that weren’t exactly useful, but also couldn’t be thrown away. It also contained a few things that he confiscated from recruits (and an embarrassingly good deal of items from Soap and Gaz as well). There were also a few postcards, Christmas cards, and old photos shoved in the very back from various friends and other coworkers.
The main wall behind his desk, called ‘The Fridge,’ contained his most special decor:
- A photo of the 141 after a successful mission, taken from Nikolai’s gainy camera. They were filthy, exhausted, but grinning all the same.
- Another photo of Ghost and Soap sprawled out atop one another in a dead sleep after an outing at a local pub.
- Another photo of Gaz smiling from ear to ear, holding up a salmon from the first time Price took him fly-fishing.
- A charcoal drawing of himself, drawn by Soap. It was incredibly accurate - the lad could have easily made a career out of his drawings if he hadn’t joined the military.
- Lastly, another drawing by Soap. This one was a cartoon style of Ghost, Gaz, Price, and the lad himself, each holding a different flavor of ice cream in their hand. Price thought it was terrifically done, especially with Ghost’s mask smeared with minty green ice cream.
Office hours were strictly ‘open-door.’ If the door was open, anyone could come in at any time. If it was closed, one could knock, but never dare try opening it. Several found this out the hard way. Soap even still occasionally tested this boundary for ‘shits and giggles,’ as he claimed, and paid dearly running laps around the base. He deserved it entirely - and Price had threatened him to maintain secrecy on the scene he had once walked in on.
More often than not, a knock was almost always answered. When it wasn’t, Price had a box with a slot nailed on the wall just outside his door. A mailbox, or more like a notebox for messages that weren’t dire. Price checked it everytime he re-entered his office in the morning. It was mostly filled with nonsensical notes from Gaz, Soap, and even Ghost when he was in the right mood. Most of the notes made their way straight into the wastebasket - and the writers were disciplined appropriately for any vulgar ones. Soap had quickly learned that it was impossible to forge notes - Gaz would never ask for extra latrine duty - nor would Ghost request to switch rooms with Soap (Ghost’s room was the only one with a private bathroom).
More often than not, Price stayed in his office well beyond normal hours when he was behind on paperwork, focusing on intel for future missions, or filled with too much caffeine. Ghost would sometimes appear during those hours. Price would greet him softly, pass him a lollie, and go back to his business while Ghost settled on the sofa. He would stay until the nightmare wore off, be it fifteen minutes or two hours. Price never made him leave.
Price’s office wasn’t very large, but it was the closest thing the task force had to a home while on duty, and it would forever stay that way.