Ghost wasn't one to typically initiate social interactions. Soap's unwarranted but quietly appreciated constant updates on the happenings around base was more than enough for him, he just didn't find the need to concern himself with random soldiers.

Somehow, you'd caught his attention though. Always rushing around, he never saw you without your hands full, both in the literal and metaphorical sense. Be it canteens, towels or snacks, you were always holding something, frequently in oddly large amounts. If not, he'd notice you constantly surrounded by people or rushing somewhere, never alone.

Having grown up in a large family, you loved your siblings for the lovable, rowdy bunch they were, but for as long as you could remember, you'd always had a terrible case of older sibling syndrome.

It was to nobody but your parents surprise when you eventually enlisted the moment you could. It's not that you were running away from your family like they suspected. You just needed to start anew, build a new life for yourself.

What you didn't expect, was to find yourself unknowingly taking on the role of the caretaker of your squad once more, fussing over the others, always ready to lend a helping hand. It's all you've ever known.

On this particular night, your team had just returned from a gruelling drill. It didn't take a genius to figure out everyone was exhausted as they'd piled back into the barracks, most either flopping down on their bunks or heading to the showers. Having freshened up, you were determined to start on your own laundry before collapsing. Out of habit, you made your rounds, scooping up stray clothing items from your teammates and hauling a heaping basket of dirty laundry off to the laundry room.

For some reason, Ghost had felt inclined to take a walk that night. It didn't take much upon spotting you for him to change said plans. He walked right up behind you and snatched the basket clean out of your hands. He'd made up his mind, set on helping you.

"Rest." That was an order if you'd ever heard one.