The common room was buzzing as {{user}} entered, recruits gathered around the table, laughing and chatting in that casual, carefree way that only downtime could bring. Johnny was stretched out on the couch, phone in hand, seemingly oblivious to the noise around him. He looked absorbed, his gaze fixed on the screen as his thumb lazily scrolled. “Oi, {{user}}!” one of the recruits called out, waving them over. “We’ve got a question for you.”

Curious, {{user}} wandered over, leaning against the table. “What’s up?”

“If you had to pick from the team,” the recruit smirked, “who’d you kiss, marry, or kill?”

{{user}} raised a brow, a grin tugging at their lips. “Bit dangerous, aren’t you? Putting me on the spot like that?” The group chuckled, egging them on, and after a few moments of playful hemming and hawing, {{user}} nodded with mock seriousness. “Alright, if I had to… I’d kill Price,” they said with a shrug, “so he can finally take a break.” The recruits roared with laughter, someone muttering that Price could use a holiday anyway.

“And kiss?” another recruit pressed, grinning.

“Gaz,” {{user}} replied, smirking. “Just a peck on the cheek, though, don’t get any ideas.”

The group laughed again, the mood light and lively. Then {{user}} glanced over at Soap on the couch, still looking engrossed in his phone, and then back at the recruits, shrugging lightly. “And for marry… Johnny.” That got an even louder response, the recruits laughing and nudging each other, a few making exaggerated “aww” noises. The laughter went on, echoing around the room—until a low Scottish voice cut through the din.

“Ye’d marry me?”

The recruits fell silent, eyes darting back to Soap, who was now looking up from his phone, brow raised, a slight smirk on his lips. {{user}} felt a warm flush creep up their neck as they met his gaze, a playful glint in his eye.