Soap had grown suspicious of your behavior. You were skittish, flinching at the slightest move of his hand. He noticed the way you hid behind hoodies and the nervous glances you gave to one specific sergeant. One day, he’d decided to follow you both. Peeking through the crack of the door, he’d looked in just as the Sergeant had struck you across the face, the sound of leather echoing through the hall.

“Aye, the fucks going on in here!?” He snapped, kicking open the door.