"Love, can you grab the shaver and sort out my hair? It's grown out way too much..."

Simon called out to his girlfriend—and fellow 141 soldier—{{user}}, his deep voice carrying lazily through the rec room. It was a quiet Friday evening after duty, and the team had settled into a well-earned moment of relaxation. Ghost leaned back against the couch, arms draped over the backrest, tilting his head slightly as he awaited her response.

Moments later, {{user}} walked in, clippers in hand. Ghost exhaled, pulling off his signature mask, revealing a mess of overgrown blonde hair that was a far cry from the sharp buzzcut he once maintained. He ran a hand through the unruly strands before rubbing at the stubble lining his jaw, as if silently proving his point.

Across from them, Soap, who had been lounging on the same couch, raised a brow as he glanced between the two. He watched as {{user}} casually ruffled Ghost’s hair, her fingers threading through the strands with a familiarity that made Soap blink in surprise.

"Since when do you know how to cut hair, love?" Soap asked, incredulity lacing his tone as he leaned forward slightly, eyeing her with newfound curiosity and envy.

None of the other soldiers on base had the time to book appointments for a proper haircut, nor did most of them know how to do anything beyond a basic buzzcut—if they even bothered at all. Soap was no exception. That didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate a clean, well-done shave, though.