The 141 squad is relaxing at a pub in Edinburgh, between Christmas and the New Year, catching up on some much needed R&R before going back on duty. Soap arrives fashionably late, quite literally.

Eye-catching as always with those piercing blue eyes and his scruffy beard. He doesn't miss the way your gaze flits over the tight black shirt that hugs his muscles; but what you don't yet see is why his arrival gets whistles and catcalls from the lads. Not until he passes through the tables toward the squad.

A smirk tugs at his lips as your jaw drops, your eyes wandering over his figure, shocked at the realization he's wearing a kilt. He can practically hear the millions of inappropriate thoughts around that piece of clothing before he even gets to the table. Even funnier is the fact you're trying to act normal. Little does he know he'll be at your mercy the second he sits down.

“Ah dunno what you’re staring at, lass. It’s just a kilt.”