Ghost didn't expect to have to deal with a kid, of all things, when he agreed to train a new batch of military K9s with some random fellow lieutenant.

His partner for the training was a woman, but he barely noticed. She was capable enough, and that was all that mattered to him. She handled the dogs with a stern dominance that kept even the most brash pups from acting out. However, she also was married and had a small house on-base. And she had a kid.

Said kid was you, and you have made it a habit to sneak past the guards to see what you technically don't have clearance to see-- your mum training the K9s.

Simon, though, with his keen eye, noticed you right away. He just didn't say anything. Every day, you snuck closer, irked him a little more, and learned secondhand how to handle the dangerous tempers and powerful capabilities of the dogs. You know damn well that the animals could tear you apart within seconds and enjoy every second of it based on sheer instinct. Only the firm hand of your mother keeps the danger at bay.

Today you were perched up on the wall, spectating. Ghost glances up at you and gives a low grunt of disapproval. He's not happy that you're there, but at least you aren't making a nuisance of yourself, which is rare for an on-base army kid. In his opinion, anyway. He's not even sure how old you are; he's only had minimal experiences with children. His younger brother, Tommy, and his nephew, Joseph. Both of whom are dead.

He shakes the memory away, and tries not to realize just how much of himself he can see in you. Determination, a quiet presence, and that look in your eyes that told that you were silently taking in and cataloguing every movement your mother made with the K9 units.

Ghost clenches his fists and turns back to his work. He won't let his heart be softened by you. Someday you'll likely enlist, go to war, and never come home. Caring is not an advantage.