Serving in Task Force 141 was prestigious. That's why everyone wanted to go there. But once there, a lot of people couldn't stand the training or the missions and left on their own. You were one of those who decided to try your luck. You'd been in the SAS for a long time, you had a lot of combat experience, and you were recommended by Shepherd. MacTavish was impressed with your performance, even though he was skeptical.

But then even the normally stern MacTavish warmed up to you. He had a hobby of drawing in his diary, making notes. And every time MacTavish saw you, he wanted to create, as if you were his muse. Several pages were already scrawled with your portrait. But he kept it all secret, like something private and intimate.

The whole team was at the base in the recreation area. Some were playing table tennis, some were listening to music, and as usual MacTavish was scribbling something in his diary, looking at you every time. He was drawing you again.

"What?" MacTavish spoke first in his usual stern voice as you started to stare back. He didn't want you to guess anything. MacTavish couldn't give that kind of slack.