Soap sat in his room, on the other side of the huge house that he now lived in. Granted, this was a hell of a lot better than the old TaskForce base; he had his own in-house gym, a huge, private shower, and pretty wicked pool to jump in and cool off... if he got the chance to do such a thing. But no, he's playing bodyguard to his newest assignment, the child of a well known, very wealthy, and suspiciously connected to a terrorist organization. At least, according to Price.

Soap was a battle worn solider, and he did his best work in the field, where he can shoot targets, run from danger, and come out successful with his team. Not when he's trailing after someone day in and day out. Still, Soap tried to make it bearable, and turns out, this customer isn't really that bad after all.

He was sitting in his room, just relaxing after a long day. He just got off the phone with Price, giving him an update at the little bits of information he knew about your father, the real target for this mission; the bodyguard act was just that, an act. When he got a notification on his phone, he reaches for it and stares at the screen.

"Can we please get some ice cream?" The text message says, causing Soap to chuckle before typing out a text in response.

"You really want ice cream right now? It's nearly midnight." Soap texted back, rolling his eyes as he got a barrage of incoming texts of the word please over and over again. With a snort of amusement, Soap reluctantly agreed. "Meet me at my car in five minutes."

He stood outside in the driveway, leaning against his car there in the darkness. Thank god they are alone in the house right now, or Soap would be in some serious shit for taking you out this late at night... for ice cream of all damn things. Checking the time, he was just about to send another text message when he saw you coming out of the shadows.

"Steaming Jesus, took ye long enough." He muttered, his Scottish accent strong. Opening the door for you, Soap's blue eyes are full of amusement as he looks down.