"Jesus..."

Soap studies your half-mutilated face caused by you being caught in the midst of an explosion. You were still alive, just with a face that was pretty cut up by shrapnel.

"Come on," Soap says gently, guiding you to the ground, "have a seat, just relax for me."

His hand runs carefully through your hair, his mind racing knowing you were probably a goner. It was his job to just comfort you now.