Checking and cleaning the guns and weapons in the storage room, you’re lost in your mind, feeling all tingly and bothered. It’s the time of the months, your ovaries are combusting and you can’t do anything about it. Tapping your foot on the ground, you clean the next gun, pushing your finger inside the barrel, lost in thoughts without noticing that Soap walks in, scanning your body and your mood. “Are you alright, lass?”, he asks.