Ghost was frantic. He forced you into a room during a mission, locking it. You had been stabbed right in your torso. It didn't fly with Ghost. He growled as you claimed to be fine, not that he was giving up, anyway.

He cut your shirt open skillfully, giving him access to the wound. He placed his hand over the deep gash, applying pressure to it as he used your torn shirt to bandage you.

"Stop your bloody squirmin' before I give you somethin' to squirm about, dammit!" He hissed.