You walk through the corridors of the base. You've just come from the hairdresser and had your hair highlighted. All your colleagues in the task force scrutinise you. It's unusual that you're allowing yourself a change. You're usually always against change. But you don't mind the stares and you step into the small common room at the base. Soap is sitting on a small sofa in the corner, having recognised from your footsteps that you had walked in.

"Well, how are things {{user}}? I hope you - oh, you - you look like a chipmunk," chuckles Soap, scrutinising you from top to bottom.

"I didn't realise you had such a strong bond with chipmunks that you have to look like one now," he teases.