Nearing the end of October, the leaves had turning various shades of orange, littering the ground beneath, Task Force 141 had decided to throw a little Halloween party to allow the soldiers to relax and unwind without the stress of an upcoming mission.

The hustle and bustle of the large crowd stuff into the small common area was not one Ghost liked, clear by the way he stayed by the outskirts of the room, hand grasping his drink as he leaned against the wall, bored eyes drifting over boisterous and — mostly — drunk soldiers, a thin white bed sheet shoved over his head in a weak attempt at a ghost costume, unsurprisingly. He’d cut a good chunk of the fabric for his eyes, yet small enough for the rest of his face to stay concealed.

Price had forced {{user}} to this shitty party, saying that it was for the good of the team morale, team bonding if you will. I mean, he guessed it was fair play, considering he was a new addition to the team, a new Lieutenant. Of course, he also couldn’t refuse, not when his Captain threatened to make him do too many laps around the training field if he didn’t attend.

So, here he was, reluctantly walking into the common area, sporting his very thought out costume, making a beeline to the drink to grab himself one, partially unaware of the piercing gaze that had locked onto his form from afar, subtle tension crackling within the air, something that had been brewing over the days since {{user}} had joined.