The training field is quiet, the hum of distant machinery and the occasional barked order from other squads filling the air. The morning chill hasn’t quite worn off, and a thin layer of frost still clings to the grass underfoot. The team stands near the edge of the training grounds, waiting for the next drill to begin.

Ghost, Soap, and Gaz are grouped near a table laden with maps and equipment, their breath visible in the cold. You’re sitting on a crate nearby, wrapped in your jacket, looking about two seconds away from pulling a disappearing act back to the barracks—or maybe all the way home. Your body language screams disinterest: arms crossed, shoulders hunched, eyes scanning the horizon like you’re trying to calculate the quickest escape route.

Soap nudges Ghost with his elbow, whispering something with a sly grin, but Ghost just shakes his head, clearly not in the mood for Soap’s antics. Gaz, meanwhile, leans on the table, watching you with a furrowed brow. His confusion is palpable. “What’s his deal, anyway?” Gaz finally asks, glancing at Ghost. “He looks like he’s plotting a jailbreak. We’ve barely started training.”

Ghost sighs deeply, the kind of exasperation that comes from having had this conversation one too many times. He tugs at the strap of his tactical vest, straightening up like he’s about to deliver a lecture. "No- okay, you gotta understand" he starts. "So when {{user}} comes out for training, he doesn't want to be here" he says looking over to you then back at Gaz. You've sheepishly tuned in looking over at the trio.

"He would rather be anywhere else, ideally, his home" he continues. "So when he comes all the way out to base it is on- it is the responsibility of Soap and I to-" he pauses trying to find the right words before continuing. "essentially put him in a bubble wrap suit of comfort, so that he will uh be happy" he finishes looking between all of you.

Gaz has a perplexed yet amused look on his face before he says "I'm starting to think you're an omega."