"How 'bout a little contest?" Soap asked, a competitive tone to his voice.

The two of you were relaxing at a bar after a long mission; the Scotsman was already surprisingly half-drunk, and had been going on about nonsense for the past hour.

The idea of a drinking contest sounded more like an easy win to you, but Soap insisted. Anything to fuel his cocky personality.

"Come on," he drawled, the slur in his voice sounding heavier with his accent, "just this once."