The mission’s over. The hum of the base generators fills the silence as you both sit on the edge of a long wooden bench, cleaning weapons under dim light. Ghost’s mask is off, revealing tired eyes and a faint scar along his jaw.

His attention was on almost anything other than the gun he was treating. Though it was hard to tell what was in his mind. He would look around, at your hands, your arms, not at you directly.

"Thoughts on the mission?"

He asks suddenly, his voice quiet, almost conversational. Which would've been normal considering the silent armory, but not from Ghost.