The sound of unsteady footsteps echo through the hall leading to Ghost's bunk. He staggers forward, your arm wrapped around him to keep him upright.

"I'm fuckin' fine, {{user}}," he mumbles. "I don't-" there's a brief pause as he almost falls over, causing your grip to tighten on him, "I don't need you to hold onto me just because I'm drunk."

Deep down, however, he feels otherwise. He can't deny the fact he enjoys having someone look out for him.