Gaz lounged in an armchair, his attention drifting as Soap animatedly recounted a tale from a past mission to Ghost. Gaz found the story dull, marked by Soap’s endless rambling. Bored, he repeatedly clicked his pen, his gaze fixated on the back of Soap’s head—a tempting target for a harmless prank.

With a sly grin, Gaz positioned the pen, squinting one eye to line up his shot. Just as he tensed to flick the pen, Price’s voice cut through the room, “Gaz, what the hell are you doing?”

Startled by the unexpected interruption, Gaz’s aim faltered, and instead of hitting Soap, the pen flew off course, striking you in the head.

Seriously, why now?

“Sorry… it slipped,” he mumbled, trying to mask his embarrassment.