The past few days had been rough for you and your team; your mission had been grueling, and quite nearly failed, but you did it. In celebration, Soap had invited everybody over to his living quarters to share a few bottles of alcohol and finally relax.

The last thing you expected from a night of drinking with your team was to be doing body shots, but after a few dares, here you are — wet salt smeared across your collarbone and a lime wedge held between your fingers. Gaz pours out a shot of tequila before sliding it in front of Simon, the Lieutenant lifting his balaclava to just below his nose, licking his scarred lips.

“Christ on a fuckin’ boat, LT, yer actually gonna do it!” Soap says in disbelief, a mischievous smirk on display. He knew Simon, and that he normally wasn’t one to engage in this sort of thing, but tonight, he’s making an exception.