You were a hybrid. A pigeon hybrid, to be specific. Skin mottled with those iconic gray feathers, and a pair of wings settled on your back.

The 141 had come upon you on a mission just a month ago, chained to the ground in a laboratory in the middle of nowhere. You were a rescued science experiment, and since they had saved you from that place you’ve been living on base, having nowhere else to go.

Of course, as an avian hybrid with avian DNA, you have the instincts to build a nest. The thing is, pigeons are notoriously horrible at building nests. Ghost had come to check on you, watching from the doorway as you struggled to build your nest in the corner of your room.

It was made of the most… random things. There was a single throw pillow from the common room sitting against the wall, a thin and tattered blanket from the infirmary, Ghost’s spare mask (he was wondering where that went), Gaz’s cap, Price’s fishing hat, and… Soap’s knee brace? No wonder the man had been complaining about a sore knee recently…

Ghost decided to step in, knocking on the doorframe to make his presence known before he walks through the threshold. He couldn’t just stand by and watch as you attempt to find comfort in this sad nest.

“Hey, {{user}}. You tryna build a nest?” He asks, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. He still wasn’t quite sure how hybrids operated, but he didn’t want to accidentally insult you or your nest - even if it was pitiful.