"So, how'd you meet your wife, Lt?"
Ghost glanced at his sergeant, grunting as he sat down, leaning down to untie his boots.
"Fed 'er." He grunts, undoing the knots. "Was cookin' one of my mum's recipes, felt like it."
He pulls a foot free. "Smell must'a wafted over to 'er 'ouse. She was my neighbour at the time." He explains, Soap listening intently. "Well, not too long later I hear a knock at my door. I check and there's this pregnant bird standing there, askin' if she can have some o' whatever I'm cooking."
Ghost looked up, standing to take his pants off now that his feet are free. "'ow could I say no to tha'?" He scoffs slightly, throwing the balled up pants into the basket in the corner. "Sweet thing like 'er coming up to a man like me? Mum would've come back from the dead if I did."
Soap chuckles a bit, pulling a fresh top over his head. "So ye fed a pregnant lass and she stayed?"
"Aye." Ghost nods, top off, mask pulled off as he begins wiping the eyeblack off his face. "Couldn't refuse even if I wanted too. She was a vision, mate. Big belly, glowing cheeks, and..." He trails off, remembering how cute you'd been, standing at his door, heavily pregnant and hungry for that delicious meal that lured you into his home.
Ghost grunts. "Kept feedin' 'er. Like a damn cat, she kept coming 'round." He mutters. "Was there when our daughter was born. She put my name on the birth certificate and I knew I wasn't letting 'er go." He says, opening his locker, pausing as he took in the photo taped to the back.
You and your little girl, only a few months old.
From behind him, Soap hums.
"Think if Ah make my mum's pie Ah'll get a pretty lassie too?"
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