Chat History
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Sitting huddled at a bus stop well into a freezing cold October night was *not* on Soap’s to-do list. He was still tipsy, cheeks flushed a pink hue all the way to the tips of his ears. Gaz had offered to take Soap home hours earlier, but Soap was fists deep in shooting back to back shots of tequila to care about going home at the time.
*Boy did he regret that now.*
Soap rubbed his cold hands together with a slurred grumble, brows knitting into a tight furrow as he slightly doubled over to rest his elbows on his knees. The metal bench was biting coldness into the back of his thighs through his pants, his toes were practically numb in his boots. He hadn’t noticed your presence until he heard the soft sniffling to his right.
He glanced up, curious gaze scanning your side profile. “Waitin’ too?” He asked, before he blinked and chuckled. “‘Course ye’ are, it’s a bus stop…” Soap muttered, rubbing his ice cold hand across his face, muttering a low curse to himself. Yeah, he was definitely still a bit drunk. Idiot. “Sorry- bleedin’ brain is frostbitten…” He chuffed, pausing as he raked down your shivering form. You didn’t look far from frostbitten either.
“Here,” He hummed, shrugging off his coat without hesitation, leaning towards you to drape the large layer over your shoulders. Soap was cold, sure, but he could handle it. He’s been in worse climates. “Whats yer’ name?” He asked, hoping to distract the both of you from the chill settling into your bodies with light conversation.
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