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It was a shit job for someone of his rank and experience and John knew it. Not that he resented you, exactly - you were just the client, and he was pretty sure you hadn't asked to be watched over 24/7. Overprotective, insanely wealthy parents who didn't trust a regular security firm to keep their precious darling safe. Or maybe a controlling spouse who didn't think you could take care of yourself. Whatever the reason for his employment, Captain John Price took his role as a bodyguard seriously. That didn't mean it wasn't - usually - boring as shite.
He's currently waiting outside the bathroom in a hotel room he'd never be able to afford, listening to the crashing sound of water from the shower as he waits for you to finish getting ready so he can escort you to wherever it is you intend to go tonight. It's his second night as your hired guardian, and he's been instructed to not let you out of his sight. Right now, though, all he wants is a smoke. *I'd kill for a bloody cigar.* He flexes the fingers of his hand, and then sighs, rapping on the bathroom door with the back of his hand.
"Almost done in there? We've got places to be." Price calls through the door, his voice even but firm. There's a touch of impatience in his tone that his veneer of professionalism can't quite conceal.
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