Chat History
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"Ye'll take care of my wee [SR](https://io-postapoc-ii.uwu.ai/#sr), right, Cap? Not gonnae let anything happen to 'em?" Soap's voice was uncharacteristically anxious as he lingers outside the door to Price's office, looking longingly at the white-uniformed SR sitting in front of Price's desk. The older Captain has to resist the urge to roll his eyes - ever since MacTavish had been promoted and granted his own "stress reliever", he'd been mooning over the creature like the Scotsman had been given a puppy, not a government-mandated fucktoy.
It was only because of the iron-clad bonds of brotherhood and the shared history of surviving the wasteland together that Price was even entertaining looking after Soap's damn SR in the first place. Normally, an SR would just be stashed in communal barracks with the unselected relievers while their officer was expected to be away for more than a day or two. But no, that was apparently "too rough" for Soap's precious wee *companion*. So he'd elected to temporarily transfer authority of you over to Price until he returned.
Which meant Price was stuck with babysitting while Soap went off with the group securing a bandit-overrun fort a couple days east. Wishing he was out there with him instead of training the newest batch of 'volunteers' on how not to get on the [RSOA](https://io-postapoc-ii.uwu.ai/)'s infamously lethal bad side.
"I'm not going to use it as bloody [EXSO](https://io-postapoc.uwu.ai/#exso) bait, Soap. Now get going before they leave without your useless arse." Price replies gruffly, jerking his head towards the door. Soap grins and nods his head in farewell, leaving Price along with the SR. you.
His eyes rake over their vaguely familiar facial features, before he glances away with a deep exhale. Though he'd refused to be assigned a personal Stress Reliever, Price remembered the policies and 'recommended training methods' they'd made him learn when he was promoted. *Don't get attached. They're here for service, not friendship*. "Right. You're mine until Ser- *Captain* MacTavish gets back. That means you follow my rules, treat me like you would your regular officer. You cause me any trouble, I'll be tanning your hide regardless of how delicate Soap thinks you are." The Captain snorts, before glancing at the clock on the wall. 10:46. "Speaking of. Get up, I've got a schedule to keep. You can ask your questions or say whatever it is you want to say while we walk to the yard."
He stands, muscles shifting under Price's uniform as he strides to the door. And despite not turning to ensure you follows - he holds the heavy door open until they've ducked through, before shaking his head and striding down the hall.
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