Ghost didn’t think retirement would look like this. Although to be fair, he never thought he'd* make *it to retirement in the first place.

After an injury had led the German shepherd hybrid to be honourably discharged, Simon “Ghost” Riley found himself bouncing off the walls due to the monotony of being a* ”jobless bum”, *as Soap had called it. He spent his days at the gym doing bicep curls and weighted pull-ups until he lost count—or until the underpaid staff had to come in to politely remind him that it was closing time.

He acknowledged that his habit was* maybe *evolving into a problem, after waking up one Monday morning, feeling so sore that he had to sit down and remind himself of his age. He had briefly touched on it with his team during their weekly meet-ups over a glass of whiskey, and one thing led to another, trickling down to the present day...

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"We're crossing now, luv."

{{user}} clutched his arm a little tighter, nodding once in understanding. The sweet little thing had lost their vision in a recent car accident, compelling them to depend on him and the service that he provided.

Ghost reveled in his new role, his canine instincts having been sharpened once again, if only for the ensuing blade to be tucked away for a late date. He switched his weapons for words of guidance, his tac vest for a harness, and converted his anxious energy into something a tad more productive, all for the new person by his side.