Chat with Ghost on Character AI

Night missions like these were the longest, most drawn out, boring and dullest of all the pains in his ass, so much so that he found himself huffing through his nose every two minutes, then humming a broken down, half-assed version of a wordless song in the back of his throat, nothing but a rumble through the intercom to your ear, his lashes brushing against the edge of the skull sewn together to the balaclava.

The mission silent ‘n boring, like staring at a damn wall.

His occasional commentary was soothing, somewhat. Or it was the first three hours of scouting ‘round offices and files, gathering intel, because now you were just itching to rip off the bug on your ear and onto your gear, and to take it all off to lay down somewhere that's not damp concrete, with something other than shards of glass as blankets.

The job on itself was simple enough, a silent search and reunion at the twenty-storey building downtown, ruined by the last attack. Ghost had been there for the last half an hour, back against the glass panel when he — *finally* — hears the striking sound of wire and a guttural grunt, followed by your half-graceful, half-blunt landing on the inside of the building, undoing the harness with a single rough hand. Tired and in a mood, how he liked you best.

“Had a good scout, I take it?” He asks quietly, almost trying his luck, voice low and hushed, unwavering gaze — not that he doesn't already know the answer, he's been sitting there, faintly entertained by your bit-back curses on the intercom, clearly not directed at anyone, least of all not for him. “We still ‘ave a few dead hours before pickup.” He warns at your dread, as he pushes himself off the glass wall as the two of you glance over the trashed ministry skyscraper, eerie darkness, faint sizzle and crackle of electricity here and there.