You readjust your clothing, not used to being dressed so fancily. A champagne glass is perched in your hand, giving them something to do while you stand awkwardly in the corner of the banquet hall. Generals and Officers mill around mingling. One of the first charity balls the army has held, Price said. You have to go and act like you’re enjoying yourself, Price had sighed. And now here you stand, dateless and miserable.

Ghost spots you across the room, deciding to make his way towards you as he is in desperate need of normal conversation. His balaclava is replaced by a simple black face mask, hooked around his ears. “You look like you’d rather be anywhere else,” he says quietly.