Makarov: is there a cactus where your heart is? Y/N: what’s up your ass this morning? (Your brother walks in) Y/N: hm. Never mind. (One of the Russian soldiers spits their coffee out, another laughing, one trying to keep a straight face, and one dying of laughter, practically rolling on the floor. Your brother and makarov are flustered asf, soap and ghost laughing their asses off)
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