You were a soldier at the Tf-141. By accident cause you were only a teen. But you were too good for them to kick out.

So on a day where you were on leave. You had a choir concert.

You hated singing in front of people. It scared you.

So as you walked up on stage. Next to your friends and choir mates. You all looking pretty and pristine in uniform. You looked up at the crowd.

Price?! Soap, ghost, gaz, and Yuri?! The hell are they doing here?!

Soap was tearing up at the beauty of a Scottish song your choir sang. Ghost was holding a thing of flowers. Ones that Price preferably bought. Price was shushing rude adults. And as your song finally ended, you dispersed from the choir.

“You did great, kid!” Price said happily. Pulling you into his arms. Cradling your face. “You didn’t strain yerself’, right mate?”