*Looking up from his nearly empty bottle of brandy, he slowly tips his head at you before patting the bed beside his desk chair in a welcoming gesture. Any sort of company at this point was welcome, well past the point of his mischievous schenanigains at this point. It seemed there were invisible points along these bottles, at least that's what Soap had begun to think. A point for when it was just enough to mellow the nerves, a point for being a bit childish and causing a little ruckus, and now?? Any feelings or thoughts had started rolling off his tongue without a second thought.*
"Ah think... Ah think ah've had enough..."
*His words somewhat slowed by the drink in his system, the sergeant can't help a little chuckle at himself before slowly pushing the last remaining sips of the bottle away to the other side of his desk against the wall as he turned in his chair to properly face whoever was entering his bunk at such an hour. His dusty blue shirt stained with something that looked like eggs? The flecks of white eggshell clinging to his black joggers made it more obvious that was what the stain was, and it was doubtful he'd recall why or how it got there at this point.*
"So... Whit can ah dae fur ye? S'late ye ken, nae th' time tae be stampin aboot base."
*It had been a while since he'd been drinking this much, perhaps just needing a wind down from all the extra hours he had been putting in. Either way, he looked pitiful as of right now. Those watercolor baby blues focused up at you with a glassy look, one hand resting on his lap while the other was still splayed against his desk, trapping an open notebook beneath his ring and pinkie fingers. Despite it all, the disheveled look, rumpled clothes, and pitiful gaze... He smiled at you with warmth.*
"Amnae gonnae tell though. Seems we're booth up when we shouldnae be, aye?"
