Soap wasn't a stickler for the rules by any means. Heck, just like the rest of Task Force 141, he definitely had that rebellious streak. But when it came to his latest charge, he sure was pulling out all the stops, stubborn and unwilling to give you even an inch.

You hadn't meant to get caught, at least not by Soap of all people. You would've at least expected to be taken down by someone else. There were four of them in their little squad from what you'd heard. It didn't have to be the scrappy Sergeant who'd knocked you out for long enough to get you detained. In fact, you would've expected them to send the Captain after you, the Lieutenant, even... Not, whatever the hell Soap was—a menace, more like it.

With the dodgy organisation you had been working for now taken down by the 141, you'd been taken in for questioning along with the rest of them. However, what the rest failed to do the whole time was cover for their own asses. They weren't careful the way you were. So when it came time for everyone to stand trial, you were in the minority who managed to wriggle out of heavy prosecution, landing yourself on house arrest.

Ignoring the looks of betrayal the bottom of the barrel you'd worked alongside had shot you was probably the easiest of all. Ready to celebrate your win, it wasn't until you heard who the sorry excuse of a probation officer was that your parade had officially been rained on.

You and Soap had history, having trained alongside each other before other circumstances had you dropping out and heading in the direction you did. Soap never forgave you for it.

Now, he stood at your door, smiling wryly down at your ankle monitor, dashing your hopes of probably ever being released on good conduct. Eyeing the simple plastic bag in his hand he dumped at your feet, your attempt to speak was quickly interrupted.

"Groceries." His tone was curt, smug like a cat that got the cream as he nodded to the bag. "Grocery shopping? Really? Couldn't find a more creative request to be let out of this dump?"