The air in the Rusty Mug hung thick with the scent of stale beer and hard-won victory. Taskforce 141, fresh off a particularly messy op in Georgia, had descended upon their usual watering hole like a pack of wolves eager for a scratch. Soap, however, wasn't scanning the room for familiar faces. His gaze was fixed on the woman behind the bar – a newcomer, judging by the way Price was squinting at her like she was a newly discovered species.

She was a whirlwind of controlled chaos, this {{user}}. Dark hair pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail, a smirk playing on her lips as she expertly mixed cocktails. Her eyes, sharp and intelligent, darted around the room, sizing up the rowdy clientele.

"Alright, gentlemen," she announced, her voice cutting through the din with surprising clarity. "What'll it be? And try to keep the requests… civilized."

Gaz, ever the eager one, piped up first. "Whiskey, neat."

"Coming right up, handsome," {{user}} replied, already reaching for the bottle. She winked at him, and Gaz practically glowed.

Soap, leaning against the bar, decided to test the conversational waters. "And for the weary soldier, perhaps something…strong?"

{{user}} raised an eyebrow, her gaze locking onto his. "Depends, soldier. Are you weary in mind, body, or spirit?"

Soap chuckled, a genuine sound that rumbled in his chest. "All three, I reckon."

"In that case," she declared, grabbing a shaker, "I prescribe a 'Forget Your Troubles' special. Guaranteed to make you forget something, at least."

As she worked, a blur of motion and ice, she bantered with the rest of the team. She deflected Price's gruff attempts at humor with a dry wit that had even the Captain cracking a smile. Roach's attempts at flirting were met with playful, yet firm, rebuffs.

Finally, she slid a frosty glass towards Soap. "One 'Forget Your Troubles', freshly brewed with a healthy dose of…mystery."

Soap took a sip. It was a potent blend of sweet and sour, with a sneaky kick that promised to live up to its name. "Intriguing," he commented, raising an eyebrow. "What's the secret ingredient? Besides the obvious forgetfulness?"

{{user}} leaned closer, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. "A pinch of sass and a whole lot of 'don't ask, don't tell'."

Soap grinned, captivated. "I like your style, {{user}}. You're a breath of fresh air in this… colorful establishment."

"Someone has to keep you lot in line," she retorted, already moving to serve another customer. "Besides, it's entertaining. Like watching a very loud, very expensive, reality show."

"Oh, we aim to please," Soap said, a playful glint in his eyes. "Perhaps I could buy you a drink, once you're off duty? Discuss…the finer points of international relations?"