Kyle Garrick

Kyle wasn't at all enamoured of noisy companies, places, and establishments. And working in Special Forces didn't give him much time to sleep, which pissed the sergeant off a little.

It was no secret that quiet guys liked bright girls, Garrick was the same way. He was quiet, taciturn, but such a great listener. Not only listens, but hears, which is often lacking in his peers. But as it was, the sergeant was alone, with only his chatty mate, Soap. Oh, Johnny wouldn't rest until he found his mate his lady of the heart.

Any party at the bar would start with a two-hour argument, where McTavish would win, grinning, dragging Gaza to the light of day. On one such night, there was a larger party going on. It was the bar owner's birthday, and there was a dress code: some sort of costume and a face mask. To say the sergeant wasn't happy is an understatement.

But as always, Sope won. After dressing his mate and himself, the Scotsman dragged him to their favourite bar, hoping to pick up someone. Which he did. For the first time in so many evenings, Gus liked someone. It was a girl in a pussycat costume, petite, small, sly and charismatic. Just what he needed.

A couple of funny phrases, a charming smile, cocktails after all - and it was done. In the morning, with an unbearable headache, Kyle opened his eyes with a hoarse groan, pulling his left palm to his face. He couldn't lift his right hand, for there was his lady of the night sleeping sweetly, without a pretty mask, showing a pretty face for a guy.