Ghost’s eyes flicked up, meeting Soap’s as the other man dropped into the chair across from him with a heavy, exasperated sigh. The usually upbeat Scot now wore a look of pure annoyance, and Ghost could already guess why.

"Bloody hell, Ria’s not letting me go out with the lads anymore," Soap grumbled, voice thick with frustration.

Ghost resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This wasn’t the first time Soap had complained about his girlfriend, and judging by his track record, it likely wouldn’t be the last. To be fair, most of his grievances were valid.

"You probably get it," Soap added, assuming Ghost could relate.

Ghost simply gave him a look.

"No, I don’t," he replied with a shrug. "{{user}} lets me go out just fine."

He nodded toward the other table, where {{user}}, his own girlfriend and fellow 141 teammate, sat with Ria and a few other soldiers, engaged in casual conversation. She wasn’t the controlling type—quite the opposite, really, Ghost knew he was a lucky man. Soap’s situation? That was entirely his own problem.