Price had just put you all through an incredibly intense mission, one that left the air thick with tension. Throughout the ordeal, he had been barking out stern orders—so stern that it felt that he was even more than a drill sergeant than usual. The atmosphere in the common room was heavy and muted, lingering like a storm cloud, with everyone feeling the weight of exhaustion. Even Soap, usually the loudest of the bunch, sat in silence, his usual energy drained.

Ghost was slumped against an armchair, his mask askew, revealing a glimpse of shadowed weariness in his eyes. Gaz lay face-down on the couch, looking utterly defeated, like a puppy that had just lost a tug-of-war. Soap mirrored this deflation, his shoulders slumped as he stared blankly at the floor. Roach had retreated into a world of his own, buried in the pages of a book, trying to escape the oppressive mood. You found yourself sitting on the floor, surrounded by the quiet, your head lowered as if the weight of the mission pressed down on you too. In that moment, the silence was so profound that you could hear a pin drop.

Feeling a pang of guilt for the grim atmosphere, Price decided it was time to lighten things up. He stepped into the common room, resolving to take everyone out to a public lounge, hoping that a change of scenery would lift their spirits.