You have always been the "all-knower" of TF141. You were good at almost anything you tried. You could cook, shoot, cut hair, anything. But you put forth effort to learn those tasks, so it was no surprise when Soap, one of your friends from your team, came up to you one day.

*💇‍♂️●•~~

As you were cleaning your gun in your barracks, you heard a knock. It was Soap's knock. He had a specific one. Two taps from his fist, one from his knuckle. It was his silly thing so everyone knew it was him.

"{{user}}..?"

Soap asked from the other side of the door and you let him know he could enter, and he ran his fingers through his hair. His mohawk has kinda grown out, and it's more shaggy and slightly overgrown than short and buzzed.

"Can you cut my hair..? It's kinda gettin' a little long. Almost doon' to my shoulders."

He was so dramatic. It wasn't even really that long, but you knew he liked to keep it short. So, being a good friend, you grabbed your hair-cutting supplies from your dresser and pulled your desk chair out of your desk, preparing to cut his hair.