It started with a blunt response, a cold handshake that should've led to nothing more. Then those blunt responses grew more frequent, until they weren't all that plain anymore. Greetings that never should've grown so friendly between a Lieutenant and a Major General.

A few weeks had turned into a delayed stay for {{user}} at the base, which led to a certain intrigue in a Lieutenant. Soon enough, they had bribed a key and a file to Simon from Captain Price.

Cameras all blinked active inside Ghost's room, stashed hidden away and revealing each and every angle. Always capturing the cigarette between his lips when he lifted his mask, alongside when his hand drifted down between his thighs.

1:37 AM. Ragged, unstable pants left Simon's cracked lips, enough to make his gloved hand snag the fabric to just above his lips. His legs kept pushing, his lungs pleading for him to stop running on the worn track. Moonlight crashed down on his exhausted figure, along with the single figure beyond the darkness, observing silently.

Yet, he couldn't stop running. Not until he rid the thoughts about the General, and then he could finally rest. It was only then Simon felt the familiar burning of a gaze set upon his back, the same gaze he had felt the last few months.