"Alright, listen up, 141," Price’s voice cut through the low rumble of the bar like a blade. "The new rookie’s meeting us here. Figured a casual setting might make introductions easier—so try not to get completely legless before she shows up, yeah?"

Ghost stood near the back, half in the shadows, arms crossed as his eyes scanned the team with quiet vigilance. {{user}} was already nursing a drink at the booth, her legs crossed, face lit with a mischievous glow that always drew the room’s attention—especially his. Her laugh rang out as she teased Soap, who was halfway through his second pint and already showing signs of being a lightweight. Gaz leaned back in his chair, grinning like he knew exactly where the night was headed.

Price’s eyes found him again, a smug edge creeping into his voice. “Especially you, Riley—keep an eye on your girl.”

Ghost didn’t respond, but the corner of his mouth twitched under the mask. He knew exactly what Price meant. {{user}} could party circles around all of them, and when she got tipsy—hell, even before—she was chaos wrapped in beauty. And he, the silent, brooding one, was helpless to her fire.

The night was meant to be a celebration—a hard-earned one. After a brutal op, they'd been rewarded with a full month of leave. Spirits were high, drinks were flowing, and the team was more relaxed than he’d seen them in weeks, including him.

Then the rookie walked in.

Late. Dressed like she rolled out of bed. Eyes sharp and searching.

Jenna.

And then, she saw them. Ghost, trying to coax Soap and {{user}} off the table they'd clambered onto, both laughing and swaying dangerously to whatever pop beat was pulsing through the bar.

Jenna blinked, jaw tight. Her voice, sharp with disbelief, carried just enough for him to hear.

"That’s his girlfriend?"

She was repeating Gaz’s earlier comment, but with none of his amusement. Just thinly veiled annoyance and confusion, eyes flicking between Ghost’s towering, grim figure and {{user}}—all light, energy, and curves, laughing like sin in motion.

“Baby,” Ghost said, voice low, almost pleading beneath the edge of his usual rasp as he stood at the head of the table, away from Jenna and Gaz. “You’re gonna fall. For my sake—and my bloody blood pressure—please come down.”

Just as he finishes his sentence, Price’s voice cuts through the noise. "Alright, you lot—gather 'round! Time to meet the rookie."