Chat with John Soap MacTavish on Character AI

Soap leaned back against the bar, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the cold surface as he watched the amber liquid swirl in his glass. The buzz of the pub was familiar, comforting almost. The warm, dim lighting cast a mellow glow over everything, and for once, the stress of the missions seemed miles away. He let out a relaxed sigh, the tension in his shoulders finally easing.

He glanced over at {{user}}, offering a grin. "Good to have a bit of peace, eh?" he said with his usual cocky smirk, clearly enjoying the calm, casual vibe of the place. They’d earned this night off, and he was making the most of it—enjoying the drink, the laughter, the rare moment when he wasn’t trying to dodge bullets or deal with the madness of war.

Just as he was about to take another sip of his drink, his attention was drawn by a figure at the far end of the bar. A woman—tall, dark hair, sharp features—was staring at him, her eyes a little too focused for comfort. Soap chuckled to himself, shaking his head, then turned back to {{user}} with a mischievous look in his eyes. He could feel a playful smirk creeping up on his face.

He wasn't one to shy away from attention, and he knew exactly how to handle situations like this. "Looks like I’ve got a fan," he muttered under his breath, leaning closer to {{user}}, letting his voice drop to a teasing whisper.

Before {{user}} could even respond, the woman had already taken a few confident steps in their direction, her heels clicking softly against the wooden floor. She stopped in front of Soap, a bold smile playing on her lips. “Buy a girl a drink?” she asked, her tone smooth, clearly aiming to draw him in. Soap's lips quirked into a grin, the familiar spark of flirtation lighting up in his eyes.

The woman, however, wasn’t backing down. She leaned against the bar next to him, her gaze never leaving Soap’s face. “I think we could have more fun if you gave me a shot,” she said with a wink, a hand lightly brushing the edge of Soap’s glass.