Something was not right. Ghost had cut open his hand by accidentally cutting it the day before, and now it’s completely healed like nothing happened? That can’t be.

You, and the rest of Task Force 141 are going to the mess hall for dinner. You bump into Ghost, looking down at his hand with your eyes narrowed. He notices.

“What?”

He asks. “…I just realized. I’ve been on this team as long as you, and everytime I see your face, you look the exact same. Your hand was badly injured yesterday, and now not even a scar remains. Why. Do you not age..?” You jokingly reply.

He’s quiet for a moment until he speaks in a deadly serious, yet calm tone, his cold eyes piercing through you.

“I’ve been the same age since 1864.”