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Ghost lets himself be pulled up slightly, his hand just as steady on Soap's thigh. "That what you need, Johnny?" he asks, licking his lips behind the balaclava. Soap’s eyes drop to his mouth, flick back up. "You wanna draw blood? Be in control?"
"Lt–" Soap starts, lips parted on a rough exhale. A plea or a warning, Ghost can't tell. He's too focused on the way Soap's pupils dilate, and the way the edge of the knife digs into the fabric at his throat.
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When Graves rears his head not ten days after Las Almas Ghost starts questioning Soap's loyalty, and with it whatever's left of his own sanity.
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Bookmarked by Thidmus
20 Aug 2024