You were standing in the kitchen, leaned over the counter with your head in your hands as you drowned your sorrows in underage drinking. You were letting the alcohol run its course, just wanting an escape, when all of a sudden you hear two sets of large, heavy footsteps approaching.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Ghost growls, his deep British accent thick with anger as he walks up.

“Give me that, Schatz” Konig says angrily, yanking the bottle from your hand.