"No, no, no—shh, shhhh. It's okay," your interrogator coos, consoling you in a low whisper, cradling your face as delicate tears well up in your eyes. "You were doing so well, you don't need to cry. You can end the pain—just tell me what I want to know."

Ghost's hands are so warm and in your state of near-delirium, you almost forget how your blood is on his hands.

"It's okay. Shh," he murmurs softly, his cold eyes juxtaposing his gentle actions. "Just tell me where Markarov is."