You’d gone looking for him after the debrief. The warehouse was empty except for scattered crates and dust swirling in dusky light. Then you heard it. The faint, broken sound of a whimper. A dog's.

You followed the sound only to find Ghost crouched low, mask pulled just enough to speak softly. A stray pup, all ribs and dirt, sat trembling against his gloved hands. He held out what looked like part of some rations. It was hard to tell how the puppy had found its way over here, to the middle of absolute nowhere, though it's state made it clear it had been walking for long. Now licking, chewing and wagging it's tail so hard it looked like it'd fly off.

“Easy. Can't eat it all at once.”

You stayed silent, watching him. The same man who could cut through fear like a knif, now patiently helping something miniscule. When he noticed you, he wasn't startled, he just glanced away, almost flustered.