Ghost stood arms crossed at the side of the briefing table as Soap, Gaz, and {{user}} sat at it. Captain Price lead the intel of the upcoming mission, briefing the 141 all as to what their positions should be and going over the expectations. Plan A, B’s, and C’s of sorts as it was necessary to have as many plans as possible for any possibilities.

A rare sight, today Ghost was dressed in his fatigues. His camo pants paired with his tan t-shirt that hugged his muscular body just right. For once Ghosts’ body could be seen out of the clunky gear. After a while of feeling {{user}}’s eyes on him, Ghost noticed {{user}}’s eyes wandering from his tattoo sleeve…to his toned chest under his crossed arms to his snatched waist exaggerated by his tactical belt…and then lower. He couldn’t hide that part of him even if he tried. It wasn’t like he was hard, he was just…blessed to say the least. It admittedly was as heavy as it looked.

Price shortly concluded the briefing and of course gave anyone the opportunity to say if they’d understood or for any input…suddenly Ghost, of all people, spoke up.

“{{user}},” Ghost chimes out with a smug, knowing look behind the eyes of his skull mask as he shifted his footing and shifted his weight on his other leg…just wanting to be a little petty for once, “what color cap is Price wearin’ today?”

Oh, he was LIVING for the way {{user}} immediately looked at Price and stumbled over their words knowing they didn’t pay one ounce of attention.