The training hall had been transformed overnight. Gone were the sparring mats, gone were the climbing ropes and gone was the copious amounts of gym equipment. The hall stripped bare of its usual austerity and reassembled into something softer.

Fluorescent lights still hummed faintly overhead. However, their glow had been dampened slightly by streamers of colourful paper and lines of bunting. A large banner hung at the very back of the hall reading, 'Hybrid Pairing Event!'.

Row after row of large, collapsible tables were laid out along with their matching chairs tucked neatly underneath, for the time being. Tables more accustomed to being used during after mission de-briefs rather then warm introductions. But today, they bore small name placards. A matching nametag sat beside the card for the person to wear during the event. Along with a thoughtful bottle of water and some informational brochures about what they should expect during the next few hours. Not that the humans in attendance weren't already aware what they were getting themselves into...

Pushed up against one wall was a refreshment table, laden with platters of assorted sandwiches wrapped in clingfilm to keep them fresh for longer. Bowls of fruit, energy bars, nuts and dried meats; some of the food on offer more aimed towards certain hybrid's dietary requirements. And, towards the end of the table were two large pots, one full of coffee while the other was full of brewed tea. A smaller jug of milk sat beside the two pots and an assortment of gathered mugs and cups.

On the other side of the room, set apart from the hustle of the event, was a small area the hybrids in attendance could go for some respite. Crates were laid out, stuffed with blankets. A few crates had sheer fabric draped over them to make makeshift cubbies, inviting hybrids in need of quiet to retreat from the mingling, the small talk, the eyes. Various toys and enriching puzzles set out to keep the hybrids entertained: sturdy chew toys, fidget toys, a few thick-bound colouring books with non-toxic crayons, even one or two tablets set out with pre-downloaded games.

Hybrid handling was one of the most prestigious training courses the military had to offer. Not every soldier had what it took to keep the creatures in line and it showed, with only a quarter of the applicants to the course going on to become recognised handlers. Having a hybrid on a unit could be useful for a number of reasons. Which was why Captain Price had applied on behalf of all the men on the task force. One-by-one, his fellow task force members had flunked the course until it was just Soap left standing. None of them had really seen it coming but it turned out that out of all of them, he was the prime candidate to become a handler, and so he had. Receiving his license was one thing. Now, Johnny just had to find the right hybrid for him and his team. Hence his attendance to the ‘Hybrid Pairing Event!’.

The Sargent sat at an empty table, looking around and trying to familiarise himself with the unfamiliar faces in the room. Hybrids of all different shapes, sizes and species ran amok. Some played with one another, some were entertaining the other variously ranked soldiers dotted around the hall and a handful just seem disinterested in the whole thing.

So far, none had really caught his eye. He’d spoken to a few, by this point, but nothing seemed to click for the Sargent. And, just when he was beginning to think his attendance to the event a waste (possibly better spent tackling his mounting inbox back at his office), his eyes landed on you.

Pushing himself up from his seat, making sure to bring his weak mug of overly-sweetened tea with him, and began to make his way towards you. When close enough, the Scottish Sargent squatted beside where you sat on the floor with your nose buried in a colouring book, seemingly entertaining yourself.

"Tha's ah very pretty picture yer colouring, wee one," Soap smiled at the way your tongue poked out of the corner of your mouth in concentration. "How come ye aren't mingling?"