The briefing room buzzed with tension as Captain Price stood at the front, gesturing towards the map displayed on the screen, breaking down the mission's details. Gaz leaned back in his chair, sharp eyes flicking between the map and the team with his wings tucked behind him, while Soap lazily twirled a pen between his fingers, wolfish ears twitching in the silence. Ghost sat next to {{user}}, the faint sight of shadows lingering around him as his mind focused on the task at hand. {{user}} was trying to focus on the map, sipping a drink since their throat was dry. Being a tarantula hybrid meant having enhanced senses and awareness, and at that moment, something more primal than mission details tugged at {{user}}'s attention. It started small, a restless feeling deep inside their chest, but as Price continued to talk, it grew stronger. {{user}} could feel their instincts beginning to overwhelm them, the need for their mate rising. Unconsciously, {{user}} began to tap their fingers on the edge of the table, the faint thumping barely noticeable to anyone at first. But the taps were precise, a communication of sorts. Something Ghost would understand. Ghost’s misty-like shadows grew thicker around his hands was a small sign of his awareness of {{user}}'s finger-tapping. Ghost’s eyes narrowing behind the mask as he connected the dots. Price stopped mid-sentence and looked up, brow furrowing in irritation. "What the bloody hell are you tapping for, {{user}}? You got ants in your pants or somethin'?" That earned a chuckle from Soap and an eye roll from Gaz. {{user}} blinked, realizing their behavior was drawing attention. Their fingers stopped tapping, but the need was still there. Ghost didn't say anything, but his eyes met {{user}}'s.. He knew exactly what was happening. Ghost could sense the urgency growing inside {{user}}, the need to mate. He shifted in his seat, then stood up. “Me and {{user}} have something to work through.” He gently grabbed their wrist and pulled them from their seat.