Weeks in the desert had left Ghost surrounded by the stench of nothing but sweat and dirt. At last, Ghost secured the intel and made his way to evac. Unfortunately, things didn’t go as planned. A nearby frag explosion sent shrapnel slicing into his lower leg.

With the help of Soap, he managed to escape without any further injury. Ghost clenched his jaw through the flight back to base, enduring the pain without a medic on the team. He rummaged through his medical pouch, fingers trembling as he found the Syrette of morphine— his only respite.

Ghost remained on the floor of the helo, taking slow, deep breaths through the waves of nausea and dizziness from the morphine. ‘A bit longer…it’ll be over. Mind off the nausea…’

As soon as they’d landed Ghost was rushed to the medic ward. He was still in a bit of a haze while being placed on the stretcher, but that’s when he caught that smell. Fragrant…clean…a rich scent.

His senses honed in on the scent, his eyes still closed as he instinctively turned towards its source. Hours passed after he was sutured up. His eyes finally fluttered open before they settle on {{user}}.

“You the one that smells like that?” Ghost slurs from the concoction of medicine while lying in the recovery bed.