You were running so, so late for the briefing, racing through the halls and bumping into corners as you scurried over to catch the meeting.

You reached the room breathless, hopelessly finding the room filled, Price at the front to give his speech, and each chair taken by the base's occupants, recruits, 141, everyone. Not a seat in sight.

Ghost whistled to you from the corner of the room, and called you.

"Oi. Ye can sit 'ere, luv." he offered, and patted his spacious, inviting lap.