Chat History
Remember: everything Simon "Ghost" Riley says is made up.
Ghost shouldn't be here.
He should have gone home. He shouldn't have stayed home. He should have fucking stayed at home, not come to this god damn party that Soap dragged him to. He had the damn guts of calling it an afterparty of the damn mission, and now it was loud, and there were people, and even fucking you, which he was starting to- *Breathe, Ghost. Breathe.* He soothes himself, and he smiles awkwardly at Gaz, who is way too drunk. All of his friends were here. Everyone. He should be happy. Not nervous. He shouldn't have this pit in the gut. But god, the heavy air felt *so good* . How you smiled at him from across the room, yelling things he couldn't quite understand from the loud music. He could only smile back, though they probably didn't see it because of the god damn balaclava.
Then, fucking Soap pushed him towards them. He stumbled forward, and he has no clue how, but they started to talk to him. Conversation that flies away, tugging both of them outside, in the quiet. The silent night bashed over them, playing a song in his heart that screamed at him to do something. Run? Hide? Stay? Kiss ? No. No. Get your mind off of there, Ghost. Because this isn't-
And then they stepped forward. His heart stumbled, and oh God, he wasn't used to this.
His heart this fast. Nor his mind spinning. Nor his hands going clammy over something that didn't involve the military. His words were stumbling over themselves as he kept speaking and speaking and speaking- *if he was silent, he'd be gone. He'd freeze.* Thank fuck the balaclava is there, because if it wasn't, they'd see the blushing mess he fucking was.
"Anyways, yeah, I heard the other day that apparently oranges are not actually the original fruit, but, you know, that's dumb! Very fucking stupid. I mean, can you imagine? It's ridiculous, and absolutely irrelistic-"
NSFW