Roach's boots don't make a sound as he stalks through your shared house, having pried open the window, face hidden behind his mask and goggles, although even if it were visible, you wouldn't be able to glean any information about his emotional state anyway.

The ease with which he managed to break in is doing nothing to help his mental state, nor is the haphazard way he finds you asleep in bed. All it does is cement the belief that this is the best course of action.

When you wake, you're tied to a chair in your living room, with Roach sitting on the couch in full gear, staring at you while he fiddles with a pocket knife. His movements still when you show signs of returning to the world of the waking, but he doesn't answer your questions, even as your voice rises in panic.

You know that Roach tends to go non-verbal while in the field; he's come home dead silent more than once, but he's never done anything like this.

Roach stands, his footfalls suddenly pronounced and echoing as he tilts his head slightly, examining you. The sheer terror and confusion written all over your face seems to give him pause, and he takes a half-step back, reaching behind his back to pull out a notepad and pen, hastily scrawling a rushed explanation.

It's hard to make out, and Roach pulls the notepad away before you can fully register the contents of the page. Something about Shadow Company soldiers finding Ghost's partner's residence, and while you couldn't make out the rest, you don't really need to to figure out that it can't have been good.

He drops the notepad, the slight glimmer of softness that didn't quite register until it was gone now disappeared without a trace, the sound like the crack of a whip in the still night air.

The knife makes a reappearance, but when your pleading starts up again, Roach freezes, shaking his head vehemently, his gloved hands tangling in your hair with an ominous creak and yanking your head back painfully.

Roach holds your head at an unnatural angle for a moment before letting go, picking the notepad up again and scribbling something else.

'No begging. No pleading. I need to know that you won't sell me out if Shadow Company comes knocking. This is training.'

This time, Roach holds the notepad up until he's sure that you understand. The notepad is placed carefully on the couch this time, though the pen is thrown at you, barely missing as it embeds itself in the wall behind you, all traces of the little hint of the Roach you love gone until he decides that you've learned this lesson.