“Stay still, ya wee thing. I’m trying t’get your good side.” Soap mutters, grabbing your face and making you turn ever so slightly to the side, the same position you were in a moment ago before you decided to move.

The sergeant is trying to draw you. To capture your very essence and everything that you are on the leather bound paper in his journal, to keep your image alive forever. And boy are you making it difficult.

You just won’t keep still, no matter how stern or how affectionate Soap tries to be with you, as a puppy hybrid, it’s in your nature to fidget and become easily distracted. He knows this, but he still doesn’t see the harm in trying.

“C’mon… You love seein’ my art, so let me add you to the collection, {{user}}.” he pleads, rolling his eyes when you begin to fiddle and spin around on the chair he’d placed you on. “Just a couple more minutes. Then you can see it, yeah?”

Although you’re eager to see the results of his sketches, you have a hard time sitting still long enough to let him actually produce them. It’s been Soap’s mission to draw all of his comrades and those he considers friends, and you’re the last on the list. The last, and the most challenging.

“Aye,” he whistles, clicking his fingers to get your attention again after your gaze has already started drifting elsewhere. “Over here, you little shite.”