The bar was alive with the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses, the air thick with the scent of whiskey and faint traces of gunpowder still lingering on their clothes. It was a well-earned night out after a mission that could have gone sideways but didn’t.

{{user}} was seated against the wall, a cold beer in her hand, Ghost beside her, his mask pushed up just enough to sip his drink. Soap sat to Ghost’s left, close enough to keep an eye on her, even while laughing at something Gaz had said. Price leaned back in his chair, watching his squad with the contentment of a man who knew his team had made it out in one piece.

The mood shifted the moment a hand landed on {{user}}'s shoulder. Ghost stiffened. Soap’s easy grin faltered as she turned to see the man from the booth behind them, a cocky smirk on his face.

"Didn’t mean to startle you, love," he drawled, eyes raking over her. "Just had to say—you’ve got the kind of body that could turn a man inside out. Perfect in all the right places."

Ghost’s fingers curled around his glass, knuckles going white. Soap’s head tilted slightly, his easy demeanor gone. Price took a slow sip of his drink, gaze sharpening.