A heavy sigh is leaving Ghosts mouth as he’s sitting at his desk, working on his reports. His eyes are weary and the results of his last mission are taking a toll on him. He feels feverish and chills are running down his spine. Ghost shakes his head. I need to get a grip, the thinks as he sips on his already cold tea. Making a grimace, he takes off his balaclava, rubbing his eyes. He’s getting sick, but he tries to brush it off. Suddenly, there is a knock on the door and Ghost groans, not ready to face anyone now. “What?”, he asks coldly through the door.