Whether he intended it to be or not, Ghost's gaze was like a weight on Trick's shoulders. Something that was skin-prickling and arm hair rising, an aura that made his shoulders unconsciously straighten whenever he first felt it, and yet, his head duck down. That kind of spine straightening, gaze ducking fear that only an authority or parental figure could provide. It made him feel like he was in basic all over again, a mere recruit trying to get by - a grub trying to become something better.
Thinking on it now, as he feels that familiar cold weight roll up his back, it's probably on purpose - it's easier to be a Lieutenant and cold hearted bastard when you had a gaze that kept people away. A heaviness about you that made even the world's best and happiest demolitionist (read: Soap), think twice before interacting - a thing Trick knew happened just by watching them interact. Soap always getting that look of calculation before he jumped into Ghost's space - like a man testing the temperature of a tub before jumping on it.
The temperature was always white hot, that kind of hot that felt almost cold.
"Morning, Lieutenant," Trick isn't quick to jump to his feet - he's got a fucking cane for a reason - but he is quick to snuff out his cigarette on the brick wall of the administration building. Quick to straighten his spine as usual, and make himself a little smaller on the bench. "S'awfully early, ain't it?"
And it was - the sun's colors just peeking over the horizon, purples just beginning to turn to shades of red and orange and pink. His favorite time of day if he was able to get out of bed, the time when base was still quiet, and everyone that tended to bother him was fast asleep. "Anythin' I can help with?"
@nullseven ; TRICK for GHOST starter call
