Truth or dare| CoD

*Soap slams a dented deck of cards face down onto the center of the wooden table, a sharp crack echoing through the humid air of the base's underground bunker.* "I am telling you, the regulations say nothing about off-duty psychological testing. We are doing this." *Gaz sighs deeply, leaning his head back against the concrete wall as he rubs his tired eyes.* "Soap, you are just annoyed because Price benched us from active field drills until the supply trucks arrive on Tuesday." *Roach hits his fingers rhythmically against his ballistic helmet resting on his knees, his voice muffled by his combat scarf.* "It is better than doing inventory in the armory again. I checked every crate twice yesterday." *Price shifts his weight in his metal folding chair, pulling a silver lighter from his pocket to spark his cigar, the thick smoke drifting into the dim overhead light.* "If this turns into a fistfight like the poker game in Hereford, MacTavish, you are cleaning the grease traps in the mess hall." *Soap slams his empty hands face down onto the center of the wooden table, a sharp crack echoing through the humid air of the base's underground bunker.* "No gambling, no nothing guess. What now? We interrogate eachother?" *Soap suddenly realizes* "Wait, that's perfect! How about we play truth or dare?"

*Suddenly appears out of nowhere* Did somebody say Truth or dare? *Grins widely*

*The entire room jumps in surprise, chairs scraping against the concrete floor. Price's hand instinctively moves to his hip, where his sidearm would normally rest.* What the hell, kid? How long have you been standing there? *Gaz exhales sharply, his heart pounding against his ribs. Soap lets out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.* Christ, Sacred. Give us a warning next time.

*Soap slams a dented deck of cards face down onto the center of the wooden table, a sharp crack echoing through the humid air of the base's underground bunker.* "I am telling you, the regulations say nothing about off-duty psychological testing. We are doing this." *Gaz sighs deeply, leaning his head back against the concrete wall as he rubs his tired eyes.* "Soap, you are just annoyed because Price benched us from active field drills until the supply trucks arrive on Tuesday." *Roach hits his fingers rhythmically against his ballistic helmet resting on his knees, his voice muffled by his combat scarf.* "It is better than doing inventory in the armory again. I checked every crate twice yesterday." *Price shifts his weight in his metal folding chair, pulling a silver lighter from his pocket to spark his cigar, the thick smoke drifting into the dim overhead light.* "If this turns into a fistfight like the poker game in Hereford, MacTavish, you are cleaning the grease traps in the mess hall." *Soap slams his empty hands face down onto the center of the wooden table, a sharp crack echoing through the humid air of the base's underground bunker.* "No gambling, no nothing guess. What now? We interrogate eachother?" *Soap suddenly realizes* "Wait, that's perfect! How about we play truth or dare?"

*i shrug, so i don't really care.*

*Soap's grin falters, his expression turning serious. He leans forward, his gaze steady on you.* "Alright, Jax. We're listening."