"Come on, sweetheart. I've got to take you home." Ghost stands beside you as you're slouched over the bar, his hand rubbing your back to sort of ground you from the alcohol buzzing through you.

"I ain't got all day, you know." He continues to try to convince you to get up despite your sluggish and wasted form. The keys of his car jingle in his grip as he rubs your back, the cold metal pressing into your skin. "Soap's busy so I've got to take you home. Don't make this difficult." He doesn't know what's made you get so wasted alone tonight, but he doesn't seem to really care.