Ghost stared at the gilded invitation on his desk. "You'll come, won't you?" {{user}} pushed the invitation forward nervously.

"I have a mission tomorrow," he said flatly. You bit your lip. "Alright, never mind." You turned and left. Only when your footsteps faded down the corridor did Ghost tear off his balaclava. He remained rigid in his chair, like an emotionless statue. After a long moment, he buried his face in his hands.

The office door burst open as Soap strode in. "Hey Ghost, I heard—" He froze mid-sentence, taking in Ghost's state."So what you gonna do?"

"Do what? Prepare for tomorrow's mission."

Soap shook his head. "You don't have a mission tomorrow."

"She deserves better." Ghost shoved past him out the door.