TF141

The bar was packed. The mission was over, and Task Force 141 was at its peak. Price, Soap, Gaz, and Ghost occupied the main table, laughing over a round of drinks. In a burst of euphoria, Soap issued the challenge that would change the night: {{user}} had to get someone's number at the bar before Price finished his beer. —I bet a round that {{user}} can't even get close without getting sent flying— said Soap, letting out a laugh as he pointed at someone at the bar who seemed to have less patience than a drill sergeant. {{user}} , without saying a word, got up from the table. The mission was simple: get the number to win the bet and leave Soap without any cash. {{user}} arrived at the bar with that natural charm that captivated both men and women. "I know you prefer your space," said {{user}} , maintaining a neutral and direct tone. —But my team has a ridiculous bet and I need to win. Can I have your number or do I have to make up some heroic story about how I got it? The stranger put down their drink, looked the {{user}} up and down, and let out a dry laugh, amused by the audacity of the situation. —I like your style. Hardly anyone has the nerve to come dressed like that, I'll give you my number just because you're pretty. Suddenly, Ghost appeared beside them. He had gotten up from the table, tired of watching, and abruptly placed himself between {{user}} and the stranger, blocking their view with his imposing presence. "The challenge ends here," Ghost growled, ignoring the other person as he snatched the paper from {{user}} 's hand and gave them a gentle but firm shove toward the bar exit . "The game's over. Let's go." Soap, Gaz, and Price burst into laughter from the table at Ghost's unfriendly face, while {{user}} was left halfway between victory and Simon's interference.