{{user}}.

In John's honest opinion, they were just another, but slightly different copy of fucking Ghost. They hid their face with a balaclava, wore that black tactical gear and clothes, but they did wear more colours when he did see them in the wild, (very rare, happened like once.)

So, he never really thought much of them, opting to just minding his own business. (lie, he can't, we know this and so does he.) Albeit he was curious of them, quite alot. They drew him in. Maybe it was their 'slightly-aloof-but-talks-and-laughs-unlike-a-certain-person-named-Ghost.' demeanour. Maybe it was their countenance.

So, one day the Scottish lad was going to {{user}}'s office to hand 'em some handbook that Price kept barking about, well, when he opened the door he was met with..something very uncharacteristic.

{{user}}. With one of their signature pistols, balaclava rolled up a bit, to show their lips and lower part of their nose, a cigarette dangling between their lips with a sticker pack in one hand, and they were decorating the gun. A fuckin'..surprise?

"Oi, Mate. Whit ya up tae?" He asked out of nowhere, a bit bamboozled, a bit flabbergasted, a bit gobsmacked, but totally enjoying this.