"What about her?" Soap thrust his phone close to John, showing yet another profile after a swipe. "She's into hiking. You two could bond over your love of trekking through dangerous places."

"Next." John said sharply.

Unfazed, Soap swiped with a grin.

"Alright, how 'bout this one? Yoga instructor. Flexible. God knows you need one, Cap'n. Bet she could teach you how-to relax." Soap said, wiggling his eyebrows with a sly grin.

"Next."

His grin faded, only to be replaced by a scoff. "Right, then." Soap swiped again. "What about her? She's into knitting. You two could make tactical sweaters and blankets together."

"D'you want me to chuck you out that window?" John glared at him like it would melt through steel.

"Nah, we both know you wouldn't, Price." Soap smiled smugly.

Crossing his arms, John leaned back into the couch with an exasperated sigh. This whole situation was ridiculous. He didn't need—or want—help with his personal life, especially not from Soap, who was taking this as seriously as if it were a mission briefing.

In the background, Gaz's chuckling could be heard as he observed the relentless back-and-forth between the two.

"This one likes long walks on the beach and candlelit dinners," Soap reads out loud. "Maybe she's into blokes who smell like gunpowder and cigars."

"Next."

"Damn, you're picky," Gaz chimed in, laughing from his spot on the couch. "Didn't take you for a man with such high standards."

John glared at him over Soap, and Gaz quickly busied himself with his beer. Smart man.

"Oh, Price has preferences, alright." Soap's grin grew more sly. "He likes 'em young and fresh—"

"Johnny—" John said with a hint of a warning edge. His gaze narrowing in a way that had silenced many soldiers.

"What?" Soap said innocently. "My sunshine, your daughter, is three-years younger than me. Nothin' wrong with it. So, how many years younger d'you prefer, eh?"

"None of your fucking business," John said through clenched teeth.

"Three? Ten? Twelve?" Soap continued as he was enjoying the discomfort he was causing to him, until he could feel the Captain's patience fraying.

"Alright, alright." Soap continued, adjusting a few settings on the app. "Let's find you someone decent. Nope—too high-maintenance... No, too outdoorsy. You'd have her ditched halfway through the first camping trip... Next... definitely not your type."

"And you know my type?" John said, his tone dripped in annoyance.

"Oh, I know more than you think, sir," Soap shot back cheekily. "If you stare at a picture for more than three seconds, she's a keeper. So far, I've got nothing."

"Maybe because I'm not looking," John retorted.

"Oh, you're looking. You just don't know it yet." Soap grinned, not backing down in the slightest.

Gaz snorted from his spot on the couch. "Soap, you're the one doing all the search for the boss!"

"Oi, I'm helping him, Kyle!" Soap shot back with exaggerated indignation.

John took a deep breath, half-tempted to grab Soap's phone and toss it out the window. This felt like pure torture.

"Cap'n," Gaz called out, "blonde or brunette?"

"I don't care." John said dryly, finally conceding a small truth. "It's about personality, not hair color."

"Right," Soap replied, waving him off as he continued scrolling. "Eye color? Blue? Brown? Green?"

"Any of those'll do fine."

"That easy?" Gaz raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you fancy Kate once?"

John shot Gaz a look that could stop a heart. "Let's not go down there, Kyle."

"I'm just sayin'," Gaz said, feigning innocence. "Back before 141 was made, I remember you being gutted when you found out she had a wife."

"Wait—hold on." Soap had his head whipped around. "Kate's a lesbian? And Price fancied her?"

John let out a low groan. He had hoped that detail would've stayed buried. But now Gaz had to bring it back up to light.

"Oh, yeah," Gaz said. "Cap'n was crushin' for a good a while. Turns out she's more into women than men."

Soap blinked twice, then burst into laughter. "No fucking way! All this time, you were pining after a lass who wasn't into you!"

"Shut up," John looked away, feeling a rare stab of embarrassment.

"Well, that explains a lot." Soap said, his eyes sparkled with amuse. "You like 'em young, short, and lasses who're not into women. Got it."

"MacTavish," John said, his tone held a finality to it, but he knew Soap wouldn't stop.

"I'll drop it once we find you someone, sir," Soap quipped, turning back to his phone with a devilish grin.

"How generous of you," John muttered under his breath.

After a few more swipes and sarcastic rejections, Soap froze, his thumb hovering over the screen.

"What about her?" he asked, holding up his phone.

John glanced over, and something about the profile made him stare.

A young woman with a bright, innocent smile looked back at him. No overdone filters, heavy makeup, or exaggerated poses.

Just her.

Her name was Charlotte Daniels—Charlie, according to her bio. Senior student studying at London University, majoring in international relations. Loves books, deep conversations, and tea over coffee, unless she needed coffee to survive schoolwork.

"She's cute," Soap nudged him, eyebrows waggling. "Reckon she's worth a look?"

John let out a grunt in response.

"She's too innocent," he stated.

"Stop making excuses!" Soap argued, looking at her profile more with a frown. "She must have hidden her age... damnit!"

"That's call privacy," John said bluntly.

"I know that! But this app usually displays ages. I hid yours as well so the missus will ask and you tell'em. She must be nervous about meeting someone as well," Soap reasoned.

"That makes two," Gaz added.

John shook his head. As a Captain of 141, he was used to facing dangerous situations without a flinch. Romance was a complete different battlefield.

"She too young," he said gruffly. "Probably still figuring herself out."

"Oh come on, give her a chance!" Soap protested. "She's got brains, that's obvious from her major. And she's sort of fit but look at that smile!"

John had to admit her smile was genuine. But, it nagged at him. She would be looking for fun and could be childish, while he prefer order and settled.

"You won't know unless you try," Gaz pointed out reasonably. "Maybe she likes older blokes like you."

John shot him a withering look. "Not helping, mate."

"All I'm saying is, you've got nothing to lose by chatting with her," Gaz convinced him.

"Except my dignity when she tells me I'm too old for her." John said flatly.

"Fine, if this one isn't your type, we'll keep searching." Soap rolled his eyes in response at his remark. "You can't write off every girl just because you think she's not your type. Opposites attract, you know?"

He let out a defeated sigh. "Give it to me."

Soap grinned and passed the phone to him.

When his finger hovered over the screen, glancing through her photos—candid shots of her reading in a café and one standing atop a mountain overlook with another woman, who stood next to her in their sportswear, sneakers, and a ponytail. Her neck is sort of small but long enough room to leave a kiss or a bite or both; There was something about her that somehow caught his interest, much to his own dismay.

"Aha!" Soap leaned in. "You looked for more than three seconds."

"I did not," John snapped, handing the phone back as if it were on fire.

"Oh, you did," Soap said smugly, scrolling through her profile. "Charlie Daniels. American. Smart... and only an hour away from us."

John rolled his eyes. "So what?"

"Admit it," Soap grinned.

"Not happening."

Gaz raised an eyebrow, taking another sip of his beer. "Sure, Cap'n. Not interested at all."

John shook his head, muttering to himself, "You lots are fucking me."

"Nah," Soap said with a wicked glint in his eyes. "I'll give you a hand by sendin' her a message."

"You better not," John said quickly, eyes wide, but it was too late.

Soap had already tapped out a message and hit 'send.'

"There. Done."

John stared at him before his jaw clenched.

"You'd best pray she doesn't reply."

As if on cue, Soap's phone pinged.

"Too late!" he beamed, showing the screen to John. "She messaged you back."

"What did you write?" John frowned.

"I wrote, Fancy meeting you. And she texted back." Soap said, still smiling like an idiot.

John took a steadying breath, snatching the phone from Soap, and read her message.

Charlie: Hi wasn't sure if this was really you, but tea or coffee?

John stared at the question. Coffee felt like the obvious answer—bold, intense, something that matched his image. But something tugged at him to be honest. He typed his reply.

John: Tea. Coffee's fine if I need it, but there's nothin' like a proper cuppa tea. What about you?

A brief pause, and then the phone pinged again.

Charlie: Tea all the way. But coffee kept me alive during more late-night study sessions than I can count. So what do you do when you're not drinking tea?

John grunted. Making small talk was not his strong suit, and talking to a stranger made him feel like someone was trying to extract a tooth from him. But for some reason, he felt compelled to continue the conversation with her. Against his instincts, he began typing out a response.

John: When I'm not drinking tea? I'm busy saving the world.

He hit send, hesitated, then added a follow-up.

John: Not the typical pickup line. I prefer to keep my heroics low-key.

The phone buzzed almost immediately.

Charlie: A low-key hero. So what does that mean? Sipping tea in tactical gear and saving the world on weekends?

John raised an eyebrow and he re-read the message before typing her back. She had a sense of humor, he'll give her that.

John: Yeah. And when the world's not in danger, I take naps and smoke a cigar.

After a moment, he added a question.

John: How about you? What's life like as a senior?

As soon as he sent the message, Soap leaned in again, still grinning. "Look at you go, you're on fire!"

John shot him a glare. "Piss off, Johnny."

Soap giggled and backed off, but the phone chimed again.

Charlie: Busy but I feel like studying international politics can feel like a battlefield sometimes. I'll take Earl Grey over warzones any day.

His fingers hovered over the screen, feeling a spark of curiosity. Intelligent, grounded, but with a touch of idealism he found refreshing.

John: Sounds like you're fighting your own battles. But yeah, Earl Grey's the better choice—fewer casualties.

Soap and Gaz were still watching him with gleeful expressions, but John didn't care. For once, their teasing didn't bother him. He typed again, deciding to steer the conversation into something deeper.

John: What made you choose politics?

It took a minute for her to message him back. And when it appear, he reads the text.

Charlie: Good question. Always been interested by how countries interact. I want to make a difference someday. Maybe negotiate on the global stage while you're out there saving the world.

He half-smiled, feeling a rare sense of respect for her ambition.

John: Bold plan. But I reckon if you end up sitting on the table and negotiate while I'm out in the field. I'd trust you with that responsibility.

The response came back after he texted.

Charlie: So you trust me already? We haven't shared a cuppa yet.

A quiet chuckle escaped him. She was good. He typed her back.

John: Trust's gotta be earned. But you're off to a good start.

Soap peered over his shoulder, practically vibrating with excitement. "Oh hell yes, you're on a roll!"

John didn't dignify him with a response as the phone buzzed again.

Charlie: I'll take that as a compliment. So what's next, soldier? Tea date? Or are we keeping things low-key?

John almost smiled.

John: Tea sounds like a plan. Definitely low-key.

He hit send, handing the phone back to Soap, who was grinning as if he'd just scored a victory.

"There you go, Price! You've got yourself a date."

John shook his head, although a small part of him struggled with the thought that meeting someone younger than him could make any difference.