CoD: Drunk night.

*The air in the pub is thick with the scent of spilled bourbon, cheap beer. It is loud. Extremely loud.* Soap: *Slurring heavily, slamming an empty pint glass onto the sticky wood* I’m tellin’ ye, L.T! If ye' just... if ye just shaved the balaclava into a mohawk, ye’d look ten times more intimidating! Standard issue operational efficiency! Ghost: *Sitting perfectly still, holding a glass of neat whiskey under his mask, voice deadpan but slightly slower than usual* Johnny. Shut the hell up.