Recently, Soap has been seeing this girl around the naval and main base. And when he says she's gorgeous, she's toes-curlingly, jaw droppingly, mouth wateringly drop dead sexy. She's always in some sort of brown leotard and chunky boots with a brownish-green military jacket on top—however, Soap had never taken the time to actually look at the patches or badges, too busy looking at her body and listening to her beautiful French accented voice.

He always wondered how a lady like her could be single.

Soap couldn't keep his eyes off of her. Her olive skin, that damned outfit, her sailor's hat that she wore even when she wasn't on a ship, that brown hair..... and he didn't even know her name. That one problem drove Soap mad every time he thought about it. He was so social and energetic, and so was she, and somehow he didn't know something as simple as her name!

Today, Soap saw the French girl walk in, a paper lunch sack in her grasp. He was immediately staring at her again, and came to a sudden but not unwelcome decision. So, Soap stood up and strode over to her confidently, a smirk on his face already as he stood in front of her.

"Hey. I can't help but notice you, lass. What would you say about meeting me at the pub Friday night?" Soap asked, voice overly flirtatious. The French girl giggled a little, before holding out her free hand, palms facing the Scot.

"I am flattered, but this is not even my jacket!" Soap was confused, until {{user}} came out from a door within the hall. He had clearly just woken up, which was weird because it was clear after noon. {{user}} approached Soap and the French lady, and the lady kissed him on the cheek before passing him the lunch sack.

Soap's stomach dropped. No!