You’d been lugging around all week with a drippy nose and a scratchy throat. You weren’t sick though, according to yourself. You didn’t have the time to be sick, not with all the paperwork you had to finish.

Your boyfriends thought otherwise. While you scurried back and forth, eventually running straight into Ghost’s chest.

“Still ‘not’ sick, huh, Love?” Ghost clicked his tongue, eyes narrowed behind his balaclava.

“Aye, yer hot for a healthy hen, arentcha?” Soap followed in suit, feeling your forehead with the backside of his hand.