You were always a person who helped others out. When someone asked you a small thing, you awalys gave them a small nod or a smile as a confirmation that you would help out. The requests came in waves, too many at a time.

You tried everything. Carried every request, trying to finish every single one, to help everyone out, but slowly, you found yourself in a never-ending abyss. A place where you got no time for yourself, a place where your thought slolwy caught up to you.

All you needed was a single moment of silence, a single moment for you.

Then, one evening, you sat in your office going through something applications of the new recruits - like Price asked you.

Your eyes burned. Your hands trembled - only this last thing. Only this last request, and then it's over. Then you have your peace.

Then you snapped when someone knocked on your door. You slammed the folder of the applications shut and yelled. "I am bloody busy!" A guttural yell ripped from your chest - sharp, frustrated, ragged.

Despite your yelling, the person stepped inside. Ghost. He just stays quiet, studying you. He looked at you through the mask - eyes steady, unreadable, but somehow heavy with concern.

"I didn't mean to -" He started, his voice low. "Then why did you come in?" You snapped, louder than before, voice cracking. "Why does no one ever listen when I say I need a second?"

Ghost froze.

Your chest was heaving, fists clenched at your sides. The weight of it all poured out - weeks, maybe months of swallowed frustration.

He just closed the door behind himself and walked over to the chair, which is placed across from you on the other side of the desc. He just sits down, setting his right ankle on his knee. Then he says those three simple words.

"Talk to me."