"He loves it! It's what he wants!" Some drunk said with an amused smirk as he gestured over to {{user}}.

"It's not what he wants." Ghost stated in a eerily calm way.

"He likes it rough!" The drunkard spoke again as he walked over to grab the back of {{user}}'s neck, causing a shadow of fear pas over their face.

The touching. The drunk's instance. The club's loud music and lights. His exhaustion. Ghost had just come back to a mission, and before returning back to his flat, Soap and the rest were able to convince him to go out for a few drinks. A club wasn't his scene, but he wasn't going to be a moodkiller.

However, he didn't expect to see {{user}} here, and the problem with that is-

"No, he hasn't. And he never has." Ghost said, in voice rough and irritated now as he took a step forward.

The drunk, also annoued yelled, "And how do you know!?"

Finally fed up with this dickheads bullshit, Ghost responded reasonably. "Because he's my fucking husband!"