An earlier discussion over drinks and a game of football, lingers in Ghost’s mind. Your words echoing fiercely.

I don’t f-ck soldiers.

He knows it’s not a complete lie.

He approaches you as you stand in the mess hall kitchen. Alone and rinsing a metal cup beneath running water. Watching you for a breath of a moment before he speaks.

“You don’t f-ck soldiers, huh?”

You don’t.

But you do f-ck your Lieutenant.