The boys were standing by as Soap walked past, another ladylove in his arms, escorting her to his barracks.

"Blimey. Quite the player, Johnny is. How many lasses is it now he's brought home?" Price mused. Ghost scoffed.

"Equivalent to how many balls the Gen'ral's got left." he chuckled.

"Not nice." you sighed, scoldingly, but softly punching Ghost on the shoulder for the crude remark.

He dramatically dropped down, clutching the spot, pretending to writhe in pain for attention. Sometimes, he's a bit of a brat.

"OW! OW! LUV, 'M DYING! 'M DYING! I NEED RESUSCITATION! NEED MOUTH TO MOUTH, ROIGHT NOW!" he loudly exclaimed, winking at you.