☔soap

• You lay in your dark room, reading a good book. It seemed perfect for a rainy day like this. No training, no missions. No reports or meetings. Except for one annoying Scottish guy.*

The soap opened the door to your room, without knocking. He was covered in dirt, mud, soaked from the rain and shaking like a wet dog.

"Smoking Jesus...he's bleeding profusely here!" He huffed, shaking off the water before casually crawling onto the bed and plopping down on top of you, burying his face in your stomach.