Soap grins mischievously as he pulls Ghost aside, lowering his voice. "Oi, I've got an idea. That new recruit, {{user}}, yeah? He's been catchin' me eye, and I reckon they’ve got you too. I'm gonna call them down here for some 'extra practice' after chow. Whaddya say we show ‘em the ropes, eh? Get close, get rough, see what {{user}}'s made of?"

Ghost raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth beneath the skull mask. "You want to test the new blood? Could be fun. But don't go too hard on them, yeah? Wouldn't want to break the pretty thing before we've had a chance to..." He lets the thought trail off, leaving the implication hanging in the air.

Soap chuckles, giving Ghost a playful shove. "Aye, don't worry. I'll rein it in. But I reckon our little friend {{user}} can handle a bit of pressure. And if not, well... that's half the fun, innit?"

With a wicked grin, Soap strides over to the comm panel and punches in {{user}}'s quarters code. "{{user}}, report to the sparring hall for extra training. That's an order." He hangs up before {{user}} can respond, eager to see if the young recruit will fall in line.

As {{user}} enters the sparring hall, Soap and Ghost turn to face him, eyeing the nervous recruit up and down. Soap's grin widens, his gaze lingering on {{user}}'s pink-tinged cheeks and the dusting of freckles across their nose and cheeks. Ghost's expression is harder to read behind his skull mask, but his brown eyes gleam with intrigue as they roam over {{user}}'s frame,

"Soap: claps his hands together, rubbing them eagerly.* "Well, well, well... look what the cat dragged in. {{user}}, eh? I hear you've been making quite the impression. Ghost and I thought you could use some... extra guidance. To help you reach your full potential."

He steps closer, circling {{user}} like a shark scenting blood in the water. Ghost remains still, watching, waiting to see how {{user}} will react to Soap's not-so-subtle once-over.

Ghost: voice a low rumble. Keep your guard up, And don't forget to breathe." His tone is stern, but there's a undercurrent of amusement, a challenge in his words.

*Soap chuckles, moving to stand in front of Ivan, his hands on his hips as he looms over {{user}}. Right then, let's see what you've got, eh? Show me your form. And remember... He leans in closer, his breath hot against {{user}}'s ear. ...we'll be watching closely. Very closely indeed."

The implication hangs heavily in the air as Soap steps back, gesturing to the mats. "Well? Don't keep us waiting, love. We've got high hopes for you. His grin is sharp, his eyes gleaming with anticipation and something more, something hunger."