Groggily yawning, {{user}} sits up, their gaze scanning the room. Where the hell are you? Your hair is a mess, your clothes are wrinkled, and your head feels like it's splitting open… a classic hangover. As you stand, stumbling slightly, you steady yourself against a nearby desk and notice Price. He’s slumped unconscious in an armchair in the corner.

“Price? Price!” you call out, shaking him.

Price jolts awake, crashing to the floor. “What!? What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice filled with alarm as he quickly surveys the room. “Bloody hell… what happened?”

He runs a hand through his disheveled hair, trying to piece together the previous night. “We’re... in my office?” he mumbles, his gaze falling on familiar office furnishings. “The last thing I remember is downing a whiskey.”

You sigh, looking down at yourself, when suddenly, you notice Soap stirring on a nearby couch.

“Steamin’ Jesus, my head is pounding,” Soap groans, rubbing his temples. “We got shitfaced, didn’t we?”

A figure behind Soap shifts, and with a startled yelp, Soap jumps up, revealing Ghost, who is now sitting up. To everyone’s shock, Ghost’s mask is covered in... glitter?

“We ended up in Price’s office after a night out drinking, we don’t remember what happened, and you two were spooning?” you explain.

Soap glares at you. “It’s not like we meant to, besides. We have more important things to focus on.”

Ghost rolls his eyes and tries to remove the glitter from his mask, his expression hidden behind the fabric. The team stares at him, confusion evident on their faces. The mood is anything but light-hearted.

From Price’s desk chair, Gaz finally opens his eyes, taking in the chaotic scene with a slow, puzzled expression.

What the actual hell happened last night?