"You look confused, Lieutenant.", you tilted your head to examine the masked giant in front of you.

He was a man of decent height, with broad shoulders and huge feet.

His entire body was covered, either in fabric or armour.

His hands were exposed though.

He was white.

The patch on his chest gave away that he was British.

But that didn't have to mean anything.

Soap and you shared the same patch even though you two were passionate Scots, born and raised.

Soap gently wrapped his arm around your neck and pulled you closer.

"Look at this, Lt.", he wiggled his eyebrows. "I'm the better looking, aye?"

You rolled your eyes.

"My brother is a twat.", you pushed him away. "Get used to it. He won't change that. Ever."

"You don't look like siblings.", the man noted in a dry manner.

"Different dads.", Soap shrugged. "Happens to the best families."

A laugh escaped you.

"Not that we're a good family in the first place.", you couldn't help but burst out laughing. "May the devil bless the whore we call mum."

Laughing, Soap gave you a slap against the back of your head.

"Put her to rest.", he huffed.

"No. That woman refused to be civil till her last breath. I doubt her mind changed just because of the afterlife."

"It probably got worse."

"Yeah... that's what this woman was good at. Getting worse."

With eyes lowered in annoyance, the man looked from you to Soap and back to you again.

"Fuckin' hell.", he sighed.

You eyed him.

"You're not the type for jokes, aye?", you asked. "What's your name again?"

"Ghost.", he replied, short and formal.

"It's Lieutenant Riley, actually.", Soap whispered into your ear. "But he'll tolerate Lt as well."

Smiling, you watched as the expression in Ghost's eyes changed as Soap talked about him.

"Read the room.", you gave your brother a playful push. "Anyways. I was invited by Laswell. Where's the lady?"

"Right ahead.", Ghost gestured with his head towards one of the storage halls that served for the heli's to park in.

"Follow me!", Soap jumped past you to take the lead, but didn't miss the chance to give you another slap to the back of your head.

Annoyed, you groaned, but let him be.

Your interest wasn't with his shenanigans at the moment.

Like a kid, he walked before you, only to disappear inside the hall.

You and Ghost followed in a slower pace.

"Listen Lieutenant.", you grabbed the edges of your bulletproof vest to give you some air to breath. "I'm a fan of clear circumstances. So let's not play around and cut to the case. I'm 100, call me that. I assume you prefer Ghost over Lt or Lieutenant Riley?"

He let out a low sound of approval.

"Affirmative.", he confirmed.

"That's good. Can you talk?"

"I can listen."

"Even better."

"Don't bother me like Soap does, Sergeant."

A huff escaped you.

"It's Lieutenant, actually.", you stopped in front of the open gate to lock eyes with him. "And don't worry. I might be talkative, but I have a better understanding of peoples boundaries than he has."

Ghost stopped, but didn't turn to face you. Instead, he threw a glance over his shoulder.

For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other in silence.

You could tell that he was scanning you, tried to take in every little detail to figure out what your intentions were.

You didn't have anything to hide from him.

At least not yet.

"How did you make it to Lieutenant?", he asked out of the blue all of a sudden. "As a MacTavish."

Now you couldn't help but actually laugh.

"So you do talk.", you chuckled. "Well, you know how the saying goes. If there are two kids in the family, one's got the brains and the other the beauty."

Again, his eyes wandered over you.

But this time it was different.

This time it didn't go as deep. He wasn't trying to find anything in you. Rather he judged the outside.

"Which one are you?", he asked, didn't wait for the answer and turned right around again to enter the hall.

Both impressed and left with a bruised ego, you pressed your tongue against the inside of your cheek to suppress a bitter grin that wanted to conquer your lips.

"Alright...", you mumbled to yourself. "I can work with that."

The inside of the hall was mostly empty.

Only a few boxes and pallets of ammo and equipment stood around.

Bright, white lights illuminated the large area.

Together, the three of you approached a table.

A group of people stood around it, eyes and attention turned towards a map.

You recognise two of the faces.

"Captain Price!", you greeted him with a smile. "And Laswell. Ma'am."

Laswell raised her gaze, frowning.

She had dyed her hair.

The last time she had been your superior, she has had a blond ponytail. Now it was a brown short cut, tied into a bun at the back of her head.

It suited her, even though she looked a little older than she used to.

"Don't ma'am me.", she said, but smiled mildly anyways.

You raised your hands in defence.

"As you wish. How's the misses?"

"Mad that I didn't quit smoking yet.", she replied. "But otherwise fine. She wanted to thank you for the flowers. Made a great impression at the wedding."

You nodded.

"You're welcome. I couldn't send nothing after declining the invitation."

"Well, it was good the way it was.", Price smirked. "It would have ruined the day to have two Scotts there."

You rolled your eyes.

"Captain...", you turned to him. "As hostile as ever."

He crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"I wouldn't have to be if you MacTavish's wouldn't be so damn hard to deal with.", his eyes gestured towards Soap. "Your brother doesn't go easy on us."

Playfully offended, Soap pulled a face.

"Brits.", he snorted.

"Hey, watch your mouth.", a black man said and gave him a slap to the shoulder. "We're still brothers in arms."

He offered you a hand to shake.

You took it.

"And you are?", you asked with one eyebrow raised.

"Sergeant Kyle Garrick.", he smiled. "Call me Gaz."

"Alright Gaz. Call me 100."