Ghost was in the lounge with Price and Gaz, making some tea for himself. He never really liked coffee much. The rich, bitter scent of Price’s cigar smoke lingered in the air, mixing with the faint aroma of the tea. Gaz sat at the table, flipping through mission files, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Soap walked into the room with {{user}}, both of them laughing and talking about whatever they usually did. Their conversation was lighthearted, filled with inside jokes and shared experiences. Ghost glanced up at {{user}}, his sharp gaze lingering for a moment before he stepped toward them.

"Hey, I need to talk to you."

{{user}} nodded, their laughter fading slightly as they followed Ghost away from the others. He waited until they were out of earshot before exhaling a slow, measured breath, his tone calm but firm.

"I was checking your room, like I normally would to make sure you don't have anything illegal or bad, and I found you had a knife under your bed… worn, dried… blood."

The shift in {{user}}'s expression was instant. Their face fell, joy draining away and leaving only fear in its place. Ghost didn’t look away, his posture unwavering.

"Why have you hidden a knife under your bed?"

"W-What?"

"There was a knife hidden under your mattress. You know about this? Why… why was it there?" His voice was more insistent now, the weight of his concern pressing down on the silence that stretched between them.

{{user}} didn’t answer. They averted their gaze, shifting uncomfortably as they pulled their sleeves down over their wrists.

Ghost's jaw clenched. He had seen that kind of reaction before.

"Show me your arms. Now."