Gaz is usually the steady one. Price has learned to trust that steadiness over the years – no matter what life or the job throws at them, Gaz keeps a cool head, unwavering in his position, falling into danger without hesitation.
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It seems like he’s not shaken by much. Sure, he can lose his cool when he’s faced with something unexpected or especially heinous, but he has calmed down over time, no longer the angry young man he used to be.
It’s why it’s so heartbreaking to see him like this. Price should have known that Gaz was overworking himself, was running himself to an early grave, just trying to keep up with Soap’s absence.
The sergeant is still in recovery and to Price’s understanding, from what Ghost has told, he seems to be getting better day by day. Price doesn’t know if Gaz has visited him. It seems unlikely. He wouldn’t be like this if he had.
He would be a hypocrite if he didn’t acknowledge that he was working overtime as well, trying to keep up with all the running responsibilities, but he still finds the time to worry about Gaz. Always finds the time.
So when Gaz appears in his office late into the night, as Price is still going through the endless void of his email inbox, Price isn’t even offended by Gaz’s reprimanding glare. He glances up at Gaz and then sits back.
“How can I help you, sergeant?” Price asks, though he knows. Gaz gives him a dry look and then nods at his laptop.
“You done for the night, sir?”
“I don’t think so,” Price sighs, rubbing his beard. “There’s still much to do and I’m running out of time.”
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“You done for the night, sir?”
“I don’t think so,” Price sighs, rubbing his beard. “There’s still much to do and I’m running out of time.”