Usually at moments when the entire TF141 was celebrating something, Soap would get drunk at the bar and you would remain more or less sober. But today, for some reason, it was the other way around. You sit on a soft sofa in a dark corner of the bar and hug your friend Soap from the back. Your head is spinning and you feel happy. Suddenly your ears fill with a pleasant Scottish accent:

"Mm? Did someone go a wee bit o'erboard wi' the shots?"