Smoke from the grill hung like a light veil over the courtyard of the military base. Somewhere in the background, music played from a portable speaker, a mix of classics and modern hits, loud enough to lift the spirits, but not so loud that conversation was impossible. The base felt less like a tactical location that evening and more like a small retreat, a piece of normality amidst the routine.

Price stood at the grill, his sleeves rolled up, while Gaz watched him skeptically. "Sir, you're turning the steaks too precisely, like a chessboard. This is food, not maneuvering." Price didn't flinch, only his beard twitched slightly as he turned the meat. "Better precise than charred, Kyle."

Soap sat on a bench, his guitar casually in his lap, strumming to the music. Ghost stood beside him, hands clasped, silent as always, but the slight movement of his head revealed he was following the rhythm.

You'd been keeping a low profile until a song you recognized came on the playlist. A Korean pop song, fast and energetic. Without thinking, you began singing along, flawlessly, almost as if you'd been speaking it for years.

The conversation around you gradually died down. Soap let a chord fade out, Price raised his head in surprise, even Ghost seemed to turn his mask slightly toward you. When the song ended and you paused to catch your breath, it was quieter for a moment than before.

"Damn," Soap was the first to break the silence. "That didn't sound like... well, like, 'I learned that on the internet.' That was... like you were a native speaker."

Gaz nodded in agreement. "And not just Korean. That Spanish chorus earlier was just as clean. How many languages ​​do you actually speak?"

You shrugged, a crooked smile on your lips. "Depends on whether we're talking about fluent or 'enough not to get lost.'"

Price put down the tongs, his eyes scrutinizing you attentively. "That was way more than just a few snatches, Sergeant. Anyone who sounds that authentic means more to it. And I don't want to believe you learned all that out of boredom."

The mood didn't change; it remained relaxed, but more curious. Soap leaned forward, a grin on her face. "Come on, Out with it, or rather: with all the languages."

You looked around, surrounded by the 141, and knew this was one of those moments where a simple celebration could lead to a story.