Reborn ↣ Simon "Ghost" Riley

chapter eight - tipsy .

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Ella laughed in disbelief as she leaned back in her chair, can of beer in hand, while Soap dramatically retold one of the missions the 141 had been on.

"I swear, lass, you would never believe the sounds coming from Gaz that night. Thought I was gonna get gassed out that bloody tent." Met with laughs all around, a can flew past his head, presumably thrown by Gaz himself.

"Shut up Soap, fucking hell." Ghost chuckled in exasperation.

The evening was blissfully cool, chilly even, but she was warmed by the roaring bonfire situated in the middle of each of the task force members, minus Price who had left to bed about half an hour ago. They were set up a small distance away from the main base, some beers shared amongst them as a small custom after successful missions.

We celebrate our victories how we can, I guess.

Never the best at handling alcohol, she made sure to take it slow with the beer and enjoy the pleasant buzz being tipsy brought her. She snuggled further into her hoodie as she simply watched the task force interact, taking another sip of her beer. "Remind me to pack my own tent." Offering a smile to the others, she was pleased when the bickering continued.

It was funny, she thought, how a group of some of the most efficient killers she had ever seen were really just boys at heart. Give them a gun and she would advise you to run, but give them a couple of beers? They were like teenagers all over again.

"Aw, come on LT!" Soap complained after Ghost refused his idea of an arm wrestling match. "Scared you're gonna lose?"

Gaz cut in before Ghost could respond. "Like how you lost to that bird in the bar back in Amsterdam?" He quipped.

"Oh fuck off, I let her win!" The Scot borderline whined as he and Gaz began bickering.

"They're like kids." Her Lieutenant chuckled, taking a swig of his beer. She followed suit and set her can down as she emptied it. "Here." Ghost noticed and dug into the cooler, taking out a can and tossing it over to her.

"Thanks." She smiled at him, catching it. She opened it up and took another sip, the can cold in her grasp. Settling back into her camper chair, she looked over to where Soap and Gaz had decided to arm wrestle their argument out. "Are they always like this?"

"Only when spirits are high." Ghost left the mask up just enough on his face that he could drink freely, and she couldn't help but let her eyes linger on his sculpted jaw, the blonde stubble just barely visible in the firelight. "It's rude to stare, you know."

Caught in the act once again, first at his office door and now here, she quickly averted her gaze and looked at the beer can in her lap instead. "Shit, sorry. I just didn't expect you to, you know..." After a moment, she mumbled, "Fuck this." And took another swig of beer.

Ghost snickered. "I'm just pulling your leg, love. Don't blame you for having a look."

"I can tell why you wear the mask, Sir." Fueled by liquid courage, she looked over to him.

His voice was deep in his chest as he hummed, "And why's that?"

"So you don't chase away all the ladies on base." With a satisfied smirk, she looked over to him.

His chuckle was arrogant as he took another sip of beer before responding, "Quite the opposite, I'm afraid." For the first time she could see the flick of his lips into a smirk.

She rolled her eyes at him playfully. Now thoroughly embarrassed, she decided it was an opportune time to head to the bathroom. "I'll be back."

She finished that can of beer on the way there, chucking it away on base, and by the time she got back she felt the familiar tipsy dizziness beginning to lean into something more, but she pushed that thought away and took another beer from Ghost's offering hand. She noticed that Soap and Gaz had more beer cans around them before, and that was reflected in the rosy tints to each of their cheeks.