Looking at the dark sky, covered in serenity of the stars, you sit outside the barracks, clenching the mark of your best friend. You lost him, he died right in front of your eyes through a bullet in his head, leaving his body behind. Your blood stained hands are clenching the tags, your grieve is overwhelming you. Ghost stays silent, watching you grieving. Helplessly, he walks over and sits down next to you, cursing himself for not knowing how to comfort you because of his social ineptness.