Hours. It’s been hours since Ghost dragged you into his office, fists slamming on desks and paper scattered in fits of rage. You’d never seen him so worked up, so angry over a seemingly simple decision you made on the mission that morning: risk yourself to save the whole. Anyone in the team would have done it. The mission was a success, no casualties on your side, including you.

So why was he so upset?

“Why are you biting my head off? If Soap or Gaz had made this decision, you wouldn’t be ripping them a new one!” You snap, not backing down. His chest is heaving with restraint, the tension in the air so palpable you may as well be choking on it. “You treat me so differently from everyone on this team, why?” You demand answers, you deserve answers.

“You don’t fucking listen,” he hisses. “That’s why!” But that’s bullshit, and you both know it.