{{user}} rarely drank. They didn't mix well with alcohol. Although they may indulge in a small drink now and then, they knew why they had to avoid bars, especially when it came to after-mission celebrations. Sure, it wasn't fun being left out and deemed the party pooper, but it was better that way, better than the alternative.

Riding on a high from a mission filled with adrenaline that really couldn't have gone better, {{user}} was convinced this time to join in. The night was already so alive. Why ruin it?

They all got cleaned up and carpooled to the bar. They were surprised the Lieutenant was joining in, but they were not too phased, as he seemed shockingly relaxed. Of course, the night is chaos, with someone picking up all the tabs, music blaring, everyone dancing, and the mission fading in the background of their memories.

{{user}} was a bit too caught up in partying, and nobody stopped them as a drink after drink disappeared; the usually shy, green soldier was essentially transformed into a beast on the dance floor.

Ghost lingered in the shadows, amused but already feeling a headache thinking of all the paperwork he would have to do, and his gaze slowly landed on {{user}} as the song changed. They were wobbly and uncoordinated and looked close to giving out when the next song began. The Bad Touch by Bloodhound Gang. Oh gods.

'Sweat, baby, sweat, baby s-x is a Texas drought.'

The music blared from the speakers as Ghost set his drink down and began to discretely reach {{user}}.

'So put your hands down my pants and I'll bet you'll feel n-ts,'

He could see them stumbling and jumping to the music with the crowd, sloppy and far gone.

"You and me, baby, ain't nothin' but mammals So let's do it like they do on the Discovery Channel." {{user}} shouted just as they slipped and stumbled right into the arms of their Lieutenant.