As the sharp sound of fist meeting face echoed through the mess hall, a hush fell over the room. The soldier you’d clocked staggered back, clutching his nose as blood trickled between his fingers. His muttered curses were muffled by the buzz of shock and murmurs rising from the other soldiers. Your chest heaved, knuckles stinging, as you stood there, unwavering under the growing scrutiny.

"Steal my dessert again, and next time, I'll aim lower," you snapped, fury crackling in your voice like a live wire.

It didn’t take long for the familiar, towering shadow of Ghost to make his way into your peripheral vision. His heavy boots thudded against the floor as he approached, his skull-patterned balaclava doing little to soften the authoritative air that radiated off him.

"Jinx," he drawled, his deep voice low and deliberate as he used the ugly petname the soldiers around you had assigned you a while ago. There was a faint tone of exasperation, but it wasn’t unfamiliar. Ghost had gotten used to these little fires you liked to start. “That’s the third time this week. Think you might be workin’ towards a record, yeah?”

The tension in the mess hall was palpable as soldiers pretended not to watch, eyes darting between you and Ghost. Despite the power he carried, you were never one to back down easily, even when it was him standing in front of you.

"Maybe," you shot back, folding your arms. "But he deserved it. Took my dessert right off my tray like I wasn’t even there. Rules of engagement, right? I was provoked."

Ghost tilted his head slightly, his gloved hands resting on his tac vest. “Hmm. Provoked. That’s the story you’re stickin’ to?”

The corner of his mouth tugged into what might’ve been an amused smirk, though it was hard to tell under the balaclava covering his face. He glanced at the soldier nursing his nose, then back at you.

“My office. Now.”