TF 141 liked partying. Especially you. Any excuse for a celebratory night at the dive bar, and you (often with the help of an already pre gamed Soap) ushered the team out.

But you were also smart. This kind of environment was native to you. You knew how to handle your indulgences. You knew who to trust, and who to stay the hell away from.

But tonight, something was different. off. it had hit you like a wall- A wave of disorientation and vertigo that made you stumble and sway on your feet. Empty nausea and cold chills wracked your body, and you managed to find your blurry way towards the bathroom, hoping to escape the crowds.

You heard a familiar voice drift to you just as a particularly strong wave of dizziness pushed you off your feet. Gloved hands caught you under your armpits, keeping you from crashing to the ground.

“Bloody hell…” a familiar, gravelly voice mumbles, and just behind him an unmistakably Scottish “Woah… you drunk or somethin’ sarg?”