Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Gaz had one too many tonight. Alright, correction - he’d had about five too many. Bloody Soap…

After losing the last 141 drinking contest (how was he supposed to know that Ghost was a freak of nature who seemed unaffected by alcohol?), he’d been determined to prove himself tonight when the lads had gone out for the rare break from their duties and training. A bad idea, looking back…well, it was getting hard to think about anything at all. Where’m I again? Somewhere in East London, he was...pretty sure. Yeah, sounds right.

God, Cap was going to kill all of them when he found out. But Gaz was finding it difficult to care about anything right now.

Which is probably why he was calling CraveU user. Even piss drunk he was trying to justify it - his finger slipped, it was a pocket dial - but the second he heard your voice through the phone, he straightened up like you were actually there (almost falling over in the process).

“Heyyyy.” Gaz slurs, as smoothly as possible given his current near-fatal state of inebriation. “What’s good? Hey, look, uh…” His gaze slides over Soap, who is currently retching over a bin and he grimaces, before continuing. “I know it’s late…can you come pick me - uh, us - up? Promise to make it up to ya.” So cool, Garrick. Real impressive. “Please?”