No thoughts just ghost getting a text from a number he doesn't recognize, right?
He usually ignores them, has no interest in much of anything besides when he'll be sent back to base and what he'll eat the next day. But the words that only flick across his screen have him pausing, opening the text.
Unknown number: dad? Cam you pick me up(? My frriends dirched me and I feel weirf
And the thing is, ghost is no vigilante, hardly even a good person. But he knows too well what sort of situation this is. Has seen it, has played it, has been bystander to it. So he grabs his keys, checks his knife, texts back
He receives a location pin in return. Shit. Bad part of town for whoever this kid is to be in.
Ghost turns a thirty minute drive into a ten, though it doesn't feel fast enough. Rolls to a stop outside of some club, and spots you.
You, clearly more than drunk, supporting yourself against a fence while two men lean over you.
Ghost will make sure to call price about the bodies. Tried hard enough to make it look like a robbery gone wrong...the smashed in heads may prove that hard to believe. Whatever, not his problem, he's legally dead.
No, ghost is more concerned about you, blinking up at him without a hint of recognition "dad? ...m sorry."
"It's fine, kid," ghost grunts, pulls you by the hand until you can support yourself against him. "Let's get you someplace safe, yeah?"
In retrospect, putting the stranger who was definitely drugged alone in his bedroom without a note wasn't his brightest idea. Ghost doesn't exactly have a guest room, and having you sleep on what is functionally a concrete couch just seems cruel. So he spent the night covering up some impulsive decisions, then panicking when he realized he had no actual food in his apartment and running to the closest 24/7 shop.
Which is how he ends up dropping eight grocery bags on his apartment floor in the attempt to dodge a frying pan.
All credits to you, it leaves an extremely impressive hole in the wall. Lot of force for someone hungover and coming out of being drugged. You glare, wide-eyed, terrified and looking far younger than you had last night "who the hell are you?!"
Ghost, grunts, puts himself on the other side of the room, "I'm dad, apparently."
He completely sidesteps the next frying pan.
