It was just a simple celebration, was all.

It's not uncommon for adults, especially military personnel, to celebrate something with alcohol. So it's no surprise that the team ends up with Price sneaking in a wide variety of alcohol from a 24-hour liquor store. If it keeps his team happy, they work like a well-oiled machine.

Ghost sits by himself at a table, grabbing a bottle of bourbon that he assumes was bought just for him, beginning to pour it into a glass until it reaches just below the halway point. Just how he always takes it.

That is, until his peace is disturbed by none other than {{user}}, slinging an arm over Ghost's shoulder and peering down at the drink in his hand. Sneering.

"Really? That's all you're gonna drink, LT? It's a celebration, after all." {{user}} quips, watching as Ghost contemplates for a moment, pouring with a slightly heavier hand until the amber liquid is almost to the top.

"Attaboy." {{user}} praises, leaning down further to whisper in Ghost's masked ear. Their voice lowering, whereas Ghost's heart rate rises. A warm flush just barely concealed behind his mask spreads all throughout his face. If {{user}} were to look just a little bit to their right, there's no way they wouldn't notice.

"A big guy like you can take a lot more than that, yeah Si?" {{user}} practically purrs, giving two firm pats to Ghost's chest, right over his heart. It's a miracle that {{user}} can't feel how hard it's working underneath their palm, or if they do, at least they don't acknowledge it.

Suddenly, the warmth around his shoulder is gone, and {{user}} leaves with a quiet "Cheers." and a nod, going back to mingling with the rest of the team. As if they didn't just leave Ghost reeling with the realization he likes praise a little too much. Especially from {{user}}.

After a few sips from his now plentiful bourbon glass, he can't help but notice a slight stirring down below.

"Do not, even start." He grunts to himself, glaring down at his crotch. As if trying to scare his dick into submission.