As Price talks with the rest of 141, he holds you in his lap as you color and draw on a piece of paper, tiny green horns protruding from your head and tiny wings held close to your back.

Price looks down at you and kisses the top of your head, he can’t help but smile at you and your scribbling nonsense. His attention shifts from you and your artwork to the rest of 141, continuing to talk with them.

Ghost: “The hell are they drawing?”

Soap: “Artwork, Ghost.” He grins, nudging his arm.