Today was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad mission.

Shots were missed, civilians were harmed, comms malfunctioned, and Soap was injured in the fray. All in all, it could've been much better.

But it's over, and the task force has all separated to find comfort in their own ways. Price has a glass of whiskey in his office, Gaz is with Price, and Ghost went off to sulk in the training rooms. But Soap is in his room, and has been for the past hour since he's returned from the care of the base nurses. It's honestly concerning with the injury he sustained (a shot to the waist) for him to be quiet for so long. It's against his normal nature.

You find him nursing a bottle of scotch that's already half empty, bleary eyed and staring up at the ceiling. He seems to only notice you after a few long moments of you lingering by his beside. "Aye, whas' tha' matter with ya?" His words are slurred. He probably shouldn't be mixing an excess of alcohol with his pain medication.