Chamber of Reflection - Simon 'Ghost' Riley x OC

Chapter Six: The God's Mousike

The last thing Smoke imagined was becoming this close to her new team. In the timespan of two weeks, the men of Task Force 141 warmed up to her and treated her as one of their own, as their equal. It seemed like just yesterday she stepped off the cargo helo and onto their base, familiar boots on unfamiliar soil. She could still hear Cobra's voice, a low resound in her ears, as they approached the hangar.

'Vy sozdany dlya zashchity Rodiny.', he spat, 'You were created to defend the Motherland.'  A dog is prideful of its master's home. If there is a stranger at the door, he will bark. Should the stranger try and enter, he will bare his teeth. Should he enter, he will maim. He will defend from the moment he wakes to the moment he sleeps, as should man, for their motherland.

"You 'right, Smoke?" Price ducked his head down, eye-level with her.

There it was again, that glimmer in his eyes. The way his eyes, reminiscent of Apollo and brighter than the sky, softened at the edge and a crease appeared above his brows; it was a look of concern. Captain John Price looked at Smoke with the same eyes a father would to his daughter. It was only natural, she supposed, she was the youngest in the team and the only female, and yet— it unnerved her; unfamiliar boots on unfamiliar soil.

"Yes, sir."

"You on the nod?" Gaz asked with a grin.

"The nod?"

"You know what I mean, like, fallin' asleep."

A pinched expression drew across her features. "No, Gaz, I'm not on the nod."

He smirked and reclined back in his seat, throwing his arms behind his head. Despite him being a few years older than her, he sure didn't act like it. He acted like an irritating younger brother most of the time.

Soap leaned forward and waggled his eyebrows. "If you wanna take a nap lass, me shoulder's right here."

She sighed. "I'm not tired."

"C'mon, dinnea try to lie to me, hen! I can see your eyebags from here!"

Gaz groaned and sunk further into his seat. Soap had a thing for Smoke. And he was about as subtle as a canon. For the past two weeks, the team had been subject to cheesy oneliners and awful pickup lines; it was sending even Ghost up the wall. He had half a mind to reach over and shove a sock down his throat, for even just a second of peace and quiet. And yet every time, Smoke never acknowledged it. At least, that's what he thought at first. All it took was Soap tripping over a barbell for it all to click.

'"Already got me fallin' for you, aye hen?" He winked.

"I didn't put those there." Her reply came as blunt as a hammer, with a nod to her own barbell.

Soap let out a breathless chuckle and shook his head before he shuffled back to return the weights. That's when Ghost saw it. The subtle roll of her eyes. The hand that clamped over her curved lips. She wasn't oblivious. She was a fucking tease. Once he saw it, he couldn't unsee it.'

"Price, how long till the chopper's here?" Ghost asked.

A masked man with an iron stare cold enough to make the sun draw a cold sweat and duck behind the moon for reprieve. He didn't like people. Or rather, didn't like getting close to people. There was always a glisten in his eyes, a longing, and his words were always clipped like he had so much more to say. This much, Smoke was sure of. Their late-night rooftop smoking sessions asserted this. A comfortable silence would eclipse the night, grey wisps from their cigarettes floating in the air, with their eyes fixated on the marshes spread beyond the horizon.