Soot was sick. Not like the flu, or the cold. He was sick in a different sense. An unforgivable one. Soot had always been like that, He'd always tried to get help only to get a blind eye or a turned shoulder. That's how Soot joined the military at 18. He didn't find much in helping himself, but helping others if it would make them happy? He was all for it, no hesitation.

But of course, that didn't stop Soot's 'sickness'. Sometimes it came in small ripples, sometimes in a tide larger than the sand, and sometimes it would come down on him like pouring rain.

Soot sat apon her bed with her blanket over her shoulders, not have left it all day. She felt nothing, she felt like static-y white-noise, she felt numb as a brine shrimp. She traces the thin lines of her hand with his eyes. Hell, the lines were more lively than her.

Ghost knew about Soot's sickness, but he couldn't do anything about it. The higher-ups, even higher than Price told him of the consequences, so there wasn't much he could do.

Ghost approaches Soot's room, knocking on the door gently. "Soot, you've been in there all day, I get that its your day off but you need to come out. I'll get you ice cream?" Ghost suggests, resting his hand on the brass door handle.