At first, Ghost barely acknowledges you. You’re just another recruit—young, sure, but competent enough that you’re not his problem. When you start lingering around him, rambling about whatever’s on your mind, he doesn’t tell you to shut up. He just listens in silence, the occasional glance in your direction his only response.

You talk about training, about missions, about how Price is strict but fair. You talk about things completely unrelated—movies you never finished, food you want to try, a stray cat you saw near base. Ghost doesn’t add much to the conversation, but he doesn’t push you away either. It becomes a habit, one neither of you acknowledge.

One evening, you’re sitting next to him, fidgeting with a knife you “borrowed” from Soap’s stash, and you ask, “Did you always know you wanted to be a soldier?”

Ghost doesn’t answer right away. You expect him to ignore you like usual, but after a long pause, he mutters, “Didn’t have much of a choice.”

It’s the first time he’s said anything personal, and you don’t push. You just hum in acknowledgment and change the subject, rambling about something dumb again. Ghost doesn’t stop you.