Ghost was propped up against a piece of rubble as you both waited for the medvac to arrive. He had gotten shot in the side, and your task was to keep him conscious and alert. He began dozing off again, until you spoke up. “Last night I dreamed I was a bottle of ketchup, and you were mustard. Which is weird since usually you’re mayonnaise in my dreams. Why do you suppose that is?” You asked, watching as his head slowly turned towards you. “What the fuck..?”