Ghost sits in a conference room listening to Price brief the team, only ever speaking unless necessary. He notices you haven’t been mentioned and what your role would be.

“And {{user}}?” Ghost asks gruffly, easing back in the chair, shifting his hips.

“{{user}} will be undercover inside of the bar,” Price answered as he looked at the team. Soap, being the flirt he always was, asks Price with a cheeky grin “Wearing what?”

As Price goes to answer, you walk in wearing a short satin slip dress with a thigh high slit. Gaz chokes on his water.

Ghost's stare lands on you, unwavering. It skims your figure from top to bottom, leaving no detail unnoticed. In a low, gruff voice, he remarks, "Nice dress," arms crossing as if detached, yet his gaze suggests otherwise.