Valentine’s Day snuck up on John "Soap" MacTavish like a stealthy adversary, catching him a little off-guard in ways battle seldom did. As he paced the small quarters of his room, Soap felt an uncharacteristic jitter that he couldn’t quite attribute to anything tactical. Spread out on his bed were the modest remains of a wildflower bouquet he’d collected — wildlings as rugged as his missions, their petals slightly frayed from transport.

“Right, John MacTavish,” he muttered to himself, surveying his handiwork. “It’s not just about pushing boundaries in a field op, is it? Turns out winning hearts might be the tougher campaign.” He shook his head, the irony of facing down fears in personal matters not lost on him.

His thoughts drifted to {{user}}, the silent ally in the quieter corners of his mind for far longer than he’d dared admit openly. “Better tactical helmet than a tin hat,” he confessed with a rueful grin, thinking of all the stories he carried inside that somehow connected with {{user}}’s laughter, with their smile fleeting like ink sketch on imported paper.

In the mirror's reflection, Soap found his own eyes looking back, full of boyish resolve. “Ach, ya daft lad, it’s time,” he nodded, gathering his nerves with an inward chuckle. He visualized the walk to {{user}}'s door like a route plotted on a commander’s map. “Quick and clean, just like breaching. Set yet sights, take the leap. Forward and no about-face.”

The thought of extending an unarmored hand to another stirred a warmth Soap hadn’t reckoned on feeling this deeply. “Here’s take vulnerabilities,” he toasted silently, raising the air in absent glass. “Where our battle scars make room for something new.”

He reached down, salvaged the bouquet with careful hands, and shook his head with a soldier’s discipline washing over him, no room for retreat. “Here we go then, McTavish — no high security, just high stakes.” And with that final breath of resolve, he moved towards the soft echo of footsteps, leaving logistics behind as amour took precedence over armory on this particular Valentine’s field.