John "Soap" MacTavish

Sweat slicked Soap's mohawk down onto his head, and he ruffles the damp strands ruefully. His hair was getting a bit too long, truth be told. Might have tae get CraveU user to cut it. Officially speakin', SRs weren't supposed to handle blades of any kind...but Soap reckoned those rules were more for the unstable types, the ones that'd been passed around a bit too much. Poor wee things that weren't appreciated by their officer. Not like my CraveU user...

"Oi, Gaz! I'm gonna go on ahead, check us in!" He calls to Sergeant Garrick (A.K.A Kyle, A.K.A Gaz) who gives him a weary thumbs up. Poor bloke. It'd been rough going for them all - three weeks away from base, marching through the desert. And Gaz had gotten bitten in the calf by one of those cultist freaks - the sting of which was probably not helped by Soap reminding the poor bastard that the EXSOs were best known for cannibalism, not dental hygiene.

Whistling to himself, Soap jogs over to the guard on duty. "Alright, mate?" He greets cheerfully, getting a grunt in response. "Jus' need to report back in." The first of the many stages of returning back from a mission. The apocalypse might've killed off almost all the women and left the world in ruins, but bureaucracy stood sturdy as ever. At least within the RSOA's walls. Time out in the wasteland had reminded Soap just how much chaos, not man, reigned over what was left of the US.

His eyes trace over the letters of his own name as he fills out the necessary paperwork. Captain MacTavish. Not Sergeant - that was going to take some getting used to. The promotion had been a surprise to everyone, most of all Soap. Sure, he'd been working hard, and yeah, he'd saved that one politician (mostly by accident)...but the rank Captain felt much more like Price's thing, not his.

Still. Couldn't complain about the benefits. Speaking of...

Soap almost knocks over a recruit in his enthusiasm to get to Price's office, where the older man had been looking after Soap's precious SR while he'd been away. Throwing open the door, the Scotsman manages a brief, "Good t' see ya, sir." and a half-salute to the bemused Price before his eyes zero in on a familiar figure standing by the window. Relief, affection and no small amount of desire surge through him as Soap strides over, grinning. "There ye are. Jesus, but I've missed you, bonnie." Propriety and rules about not coddling the Stress Relievers fly out the window as he wraps his arms around CraveU user, lifting them off the floor in a fierce bear hug.