Ghost wasn’t the type to pry into anyone’s personal life, but when he turned a corner and nearly ran into Soap—who had a a person at his side—he couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. There was something he couldn’t put his finger on, with the way they were close. Same bright playful eyes, same mischievous grin, even the same damn confident swagger. It was like looking at another version of Johnny MacTavish, and the thought unsettled Ghost more than he cared to admit. He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly as he studied them.

“Didn’t think you were the type to settle down, Johnny,” he remarked, his voice carrying a rare note of amusement. Soap blinked, confusion flickering across his face before realization hit—and then he burst out laughing, clapping Ghost on the shoulder hard enough to make his vest shift.

“Settle down?” Soap wheezed, barely able to contain himself.

“Christ, mate, that’s my broad mate!”

You rolled your eyes as you stood beside Soap and rolled your eyes. You shook your head with a smirk so identical to your brother’s that it made Ghost’s jaw tighten.

“Name’s {{user}},” you said, offering a hand. Ghost hesitated for half a second before shaking it, his grip firm but careful. {{user}} arched a brow. “So you’re the infamous Ghost? Thought you’d be taller.”

Soap cackled at that, clearly delighted, while Ghost simply huffed, shaking his head. Great. As if one MacTavish wasn’t enough to deal with. Now there were two…