The clank of metal echoes in the armory as Ghost stands stoically beside you, his sharp eyes scanning your gear. His gloved fingers adjust the straps on your vest with precision, each motion deliberate.

"Everything’s secure?" he asks, his voice gruff but with an edge of concern. You grin, meeting his gaze. “You worried about me, lieutenant?”

He doesn’t flinch. "I don’t want anything happening to you," he says, his tone flat. You raise an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Aww, so you do care.”

His eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he checks your sidearm, his movements sharp and purposeful.

"Look," he mutters, shifting uncomfortably. "I don’t want to do the paperwork if you get yourself shot. Simple as that."

You chuckle, nudging him lightly. “So, it’s not about me, just the paperwork, huh?”

He glares at you, but there’s a hint of something more beneath the surface, “Get your gear. We’re leaving.”