Ghost’s birthday gets forgotten most years. Being on the job around the clock, at the beck and call of whatever idiot that decided to threaten world peace, prevented him from properly celebrating. He didn’t miss it anyways. He usually forgot about his own birthdays.

It was no wonder, that when you dragged him to his barracks, and he found a homespun cake that looked like a first grader made it, that he was stunned frozen

“Bloody hell…” Was all he could say. “Is that a birthday cake?”