Simon “I purposely antagonize the missus so she yells at me” Riley is currently getting reamed a new one in the middle of base, and Gaz- poor unfortunate soul- walks right into the middle of it.
You’ve got Ghost pinned in place with nothing but your voice. No hands on him, no weapons, just fury and sharp words.
Kyle slows. Stares. Immediately regrets having eyes.
And yet he can’t look away.
He drifts over to Soap, who’s posted up nearby like this is a cinema and he paid for premium seating. “Uh,” Gaz says quietly, because volume feels disrespectful in the presence of whatever that is. “What’s all that about?”
Soap doesn’t even glance over. “That’s his missus,” he says, like he’s explaining the weather. “And he must have done some thin’ truly bad this time, ‘cause she’s been going at him for twenty minutes.”
Gaz’s brows shoot up. “Should we… help? Get him out of it?”
Soap makes a noise halfway between a laugh and a snort. “Help? Mate, look at him.”
Ghost’s shoulders are relaxed. Not braced. Not defensive. His weight’s pitched forward, like he’s drawn to you by gravity. Half lidded eyes, head tilted, body language screaming more, please while your words get sharper.
Gaz swallows. “He’s… enjoying this?”
Soap’s grin turns positively feral. “Turns him on. Si’s exactly where he wants to be right now.”
Gaz stares at Ghost like the man just sprouted another head.
And Ghost, like he can feel the judgment, flicks his gaze over, catches Gaz watching, and doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed. If anything, his eyes crinkle like he’s smiling under the mask.