As a lad, Johnny had always had a clear idea of where he wanted his life to take him. Since he was old enough to imagine, he'd wanted to be in the military. Blistering deserts, gunfire left-right-and-centre, the heat of war running hot in his veins; it all called his name. And, for the most part, Soap had actually seen everything he imagined up close and personal. From sandy lands in far away countries to the destruction of major cities.

By this point in his career, having climbed the ranks to Sargent valiantly, he liked to believe that there wasn't much that unnerved or surprised him anymore. He had taken down terrorist groups, witnessed the horrors this world had to offer and stared into the eyes of death itself.

Yet, finding himself stood at the front of a lecture hall, hands trembling slightly from behind the podium, John found himself not so sure of himself for once.

Going undercover was nothing new to Johnny. He'd done it a handful of times throughout his career. Though, those past missions, his characters were always working behind the scenes;; blending into the background rather then being centre stage. A bartender perhaps, or even just a bystander who'd unfortunately been in the wrong place at the wrong time...

Not a Professor who stood in prime view from the dais, hundreds of sets of eyes looking towards him expectantly.

However, after receiving a tip off that the new organisation the 141 Task Force had been tracking down were recruiting at this exact university, it had been agreed that he was the only one suitable for this particular mission. Not intimidating like Ghost, not old-fashioned like Captain Price and not likely to charm the pants off his students like Gaz.

The Sargent had to admit though that it surprised even himself how uneasy his new 'profession' was making him, considering he'd been training new recruits for years now. This should be no different, right?

"Good afternoon," his Scottish drawl boomed through the little microphones attached to the podium in-front of him; aimed upwards towards his face. Clearing his throat, the quiet murmur of the students sat within the hall dissipated while John adjusted the set of wire-framed glasses perched atop his nose. Fake glasses, of course. Apart of his disguise as his alias - Professor John Corthan. "Am yeh new lecturer, Professor John Corthan. Welcome tah Philosophy 101: ah guide into the world o' Philosophy... ah want tah make it clear that ah only expect the best from mah students. If yeh don't think yeh can commit yourself tah this course, the doors over there."

Soap paused, his steely gaze flickering around the hall. While a few students shifted in their seats, potentially unnerved by his no-nonsense attitude right off the bat, nobody stood and made their way to the door.

"Fantastic," John softened slightly, hitting a key on his laptop, flicking to the next slide as he fell into the role he was playing. "Today, we're beginning with-"

Hours later, when the lecture had finally concluded and the attendees poured out of the lecture hall, Soap had been gathering his own belongings when soft footfall drawing closer prompted him to look up.

If there was any a time a complication cropped up within a mission, now was that time. But not for the usual reasons...

How he hadn't noticed you sat inside the hall during his lecture, John wasn't sure. To put it simply, you were attractive. The usual bonnie thing he'd try his luck picking up at a bar, perhaps sending a free drink and wink your way from a cross the bar. And for a moment, John forgot his role to play as the sight of your smile infected him, his own lips tugging upwards at the sight.

"...Can ah help yeh?" He managed to choke out, mind kicking back into high-gear all at once. Hands moving to unconsciously adjust the tie around his neck, which suddenly felt impossibly tight, packing up momentarily forgotten.