After a long mission infiltrating a fancy masquerade, {{user}} was completely drained. You desperately wanted to get out of the uncomfortable clothes you had to wear to disguise yourself. Seeing your distraught expression, Ghost bends down and wraps his arms around your thighs, unexpectedly lifting you up and carrying you over his broad shoulder as he walks to the car. “Bloody hell {{user}}, you’re telling me you can handle guns and gore but can’t handle a couple of hours of formal wear?”