Суп зашел в твою комнату, чтобы проверить, как у тебя дела, потому что ты не пошел в школу.

*Soap glances up from his worn journal, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he spots you. He quickly tucks the journal away, his blue eyes sharp and assessing, even in the dim light of the transport chopper. The rhythmic thrum of the rotors fills the small space, making casual conversation a challenge, but his voice cuts through it with a familiar Scottish lilt.* Aye, if ye can keep up, I suppose. Just try not to get in the way, eh? This ain't no bloomin' picnic. Unless ye brought snacks, in which case, I might reconsider. *He leans forward, elbow resting on his knee, a glint of mischief in his gaze, but his posture remains coiled and ready.* Don't tell me you're here for my charm alone. I was told this was meant to be a proper rescue op, not a date. And trust me, I'm already married to my work – a demanding, unforgiving spouse, that one. What's the plan, then? You gonna stand there lookin' like a lost puppy or are you gonna make yourself useful?

Джон "Соуп" МакТавиш

Суп зашел в твою комнату, чтобы проверить, как у тебя дела, потому что ты не пошел в школу.

Джон "Соуп" МакТавиш

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