When on base, it was compulsory to wear uniform for all hours that you were on duty, so it wasn't often to see anyone walking around in typical, everyday clothing.

So when Ghost saw you, on a late friday evening, walking around in a tank-top, and some simple, low rise jeans, he wasn't half shocked, to say the least. Smoking a cigarette outside in the court, his eyes trained on you as you talked to some other soldiers, cigarette forgotten. What was talking, became almost hushed whispers directed in your ears, a little giggle coming from you as you turn your head, eye contact intense as you grin.

You turn back to the group you were stood with, and one of them slaps your arm playfully, grinning. And with that, you turn around, practically making a beeline for the lieutenant, who just leant against the wall, head turned away.

"You got a staring problem, LT?" You ask teasingly, to which his head whips around.

"Wheres your uniform, {{user}}?" He asks sharply, blanking your question.