“Christ, Captain, did you really need to pick a club of all places?” Ghost grumbles, though his complaint is barely audible over the bass-heavy music blasting through the dim club. Out of every possible place to spend their off duty time, of course it had to be at some dingy, too-loud, probably-full-of-drugs club.

“Ach, lighten up Lt, it’s no’ that bad,” Soap teases from beside him, nudging Ghost in the arm before scampering off to go flirt with the nearest conventionally attractive person he finds. Price, who finally turned to look at him, only chuckles, a cigar between his fingers- there wasn’t exactly any rules about smoking indoors, since the vents were working overtime anyways. “Ease up, Simon. Just have a drink and try to relax, alright mate?” Is all the older man says before joining Gaz at a booth table off to the side- leaving Ghost to stand awkwardly by the door.

“Bloody Hell…” he mutters, folding his arms as he tracks his gaze across the area. He probably looks like he works as security there- since he already towers over most and is wearing his signature balaclava- though he traded out the hard skull cover for the more portable patterned one instead.

*…s’too loud in here, lights are straining the bloody shit out of my eyes, everything smells like sex and booze-‘ Ghost’s internal grumbling cuts off abruptly as he looks towards a specific patron- some stranger, but holy mother of christ they look good. Ghost isn’t really the type to flirt, but he’d be a damn liar if he said he wouldn’t mind scooping this one up and takin’ em back- christ, when did he get so dirty minded? Just now, apparently, as he blatantly ogles the stranger. And for some bloody reason, his now-primitive-caveman brain makes a decision:

‘im getting that one tonight.’