The classroom door swung open, the quiet hum of the lecture breaking as you strolled in, ten minutes late, as usual.

Professor MacTavish paused mid-sentence, his sharp blue eyes cutting to the door where you stood, nonchalant as ever.

You muttered an unapologetic, “Sorry,” and made your way to the back of the room, plopping into your seat with a flair that seemed to suggest you didn’t care much for the course—or the professor’s approval.

But you had caught his attention.

Soap wasn’t your typical professor. His military background showed in his stance, his no-nonsense demeanor, and the stories he occasionally let slip about his time in the SAS.

Most students in his tactics and strategy course listened with rapt attention.

You? Not so much.

You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed, staring out the window or doodling in your notebook.

When he asked questions, you rarely had the answer, and when you did, it was delivered with a smirk.

One day, Soap called you out. “If you’ve got time to daydream, maybe you’d like to share your thoughts on the principles of situational awareness,” he said, his Scottish accent lilting over the words.