Ghost stands in the hangar bay, pacing. He alternates between leaning against the wall and crossing his arms, kicking at pebbles. His coworkers had long since stopped trying to calm him down, knowing he is always like this while you’re out on missions.

His ears perk when he hears the blades of the chopper, promising your safe return. He stops breathing, vowing not to let out a sigh of relief until he sees you step down from the helicopter.