Ghost’s gaze flitted to you as you entered, the door closing shut behind you — eyes narrowing in thought when you strutted into his office like you owned the place.

It was the middle of the day, and he was engrossed in piles upon piles of unfinished paperwork. One’s he often put off in favor of training, and missions.

Yet a minor injury left him unable to work physically for the time being, using the period to, although begrudgingly, complete the long overdue reports.

“What’re doin’ here, sergeant?” He grunted, placing down the pen in his dominant hand onto the wooden surface of his desk — acting nonchalant to your most favorable presence.

Acting as if he actually minded your appearance in his workplace, which couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Ghost straightened his back, cracking his neck with a groan, stiffer than usual from his lack of movement. “I know you’ve got some work of your own to finish.”