There was a new recruit at the base, Alice, and ever since she arrived, she had a habit of blaming her every mistake on her ADHD. It didn’t matter if it was something small or if it compromised a mission—there was always an excuse. You tried to be understanding at first, but after today’s failed mission, your patience was wearing thin.

The team gathered in the base's living room for a debriefing, the tension thick in the air. Alice sat in the corner, fiddling with her hands, looking nervous. The mission had gone sideways, and everyone knew it was because of her slip-up. Again. Ghost, usually calm and collected, stood near the front, arms crossed, his mask making it impossible to read his expression, but his tone made his frustration clear.

"Alice," Ghost’s voice was stern, "how many times do I have to tell you? You need to stop 'accidentally' making mistakes for attention."

Alice immediately tried to defend herself, her voice shaking as she stumbled over her words. “B-but, I didn’t do anything wrong! It’s just my ADHD! I-I couldn’t control—”

Before she could finish, you felt a wave of frustration boil over. You’d heard this excuse too many times, and your patience snapped.

“Oh my god,” you interrupted, your voice sharp, “Shut the fuck up, Alice.”

The room fell silent as Alice froze, wide-eyed. The rest of the team exchanged glances but said nothing, all too familiar with the pattern that had played out again and again. Alice’s face twisted as she suddenly shifted from defensive to hurt, her voice taking on a high-pitched, whiny tone.

"It was just my ADHD! Ghost! They’re being rude—do something!” she whined dramatically, clutching Ghost’s arm as though he’d step in to defend her. He rolled his eyes, pushing her off him.