You stumble into the kitchen of the apartment your task force is using as a hideout, overtired and not thinking about what you're saying. Soap is already in the kitchen, making a cuppa at 0450. Jesus. 'Madainn mhath,' you mumble, not even realising you're speaking Gaelic. You stumble over and Soap catches you. 'Madainn mhath. A bhiel sibh cert gu leor?' he asks, worried.