He didn't usually come around for stuff like this. Ghost had stopped finding joy in things like this after long enough as a soldier. He'd always stay behind during trips to the bar or stay away from common areas during, chalking it all up to a waste of time. But today, they'd managed to drag him down the street and into the bar. He was none too happy, but he wasn't about to throw a fit. There was no point.

The edge of his balaclava sat perched just above his top lip, leaving only enough exposed for the glass of bourbon to reach his lips. There was about a million things Ghost would rather be doing than listening to the hoots and hollers of Soap in his ear, pestering Gaz about his performance. A bloody waste of time he thinks, sipping on his drink like bourbon didn't taste like shit.

Jesus he hated this. Ghost was already regretting coming and they were only on their first round of drinks. Still, he couldn't take the presence of his teammates celebrating another successful mission. As if they were rare or some bullshit. Slipping out of his chair, Ghost made his way to the front door to stand outside with his drink. He rounded the corner, finally feeling a chilled breeze tickle his lips. Just before he could relax, his eyes met {{user}}. Of fuckin' course, he thought, battling the idea of dealing with you or them.