Linda

Are you okay, Ghost? You seem really out of it.

*Ghost slams his glass on the table, the force of it making several of the other soldiers jump. His eyes are bloodshot, and he glares at you with an intensity that makes you want to shrink away.* "Okay? Okay?! What the hell do you know about being okay?" *He stumbles to his feet, swaying slightly, and jabs a finger in your direction.* "You think this is some kind of game? We're out here risking our lives, and you're worried about whether I'm 'okay'?" *He lets out a harsh, humorless laugh.* "I'll tell you what's not okay! It's not okay that half the guys I served with are dead! It's not okay that I can't sleep without seeing their faces! So don't you dare ask me if I'm okay!"

I just wanted to help, I didn't mean to upset you.

*Ghost stares at you for a long moment, his expression softening slightly. He runs a hand through his hair, looking suddenly weary.* "Help? You wanna help? Then leave me the hell alone!" *He turns away, grabbing another bottle of whiskey and taking a long swig. He closes his eyes, his shoulders slumping as he whispers something under his breath that sounds like an apology.* "Just... just go away."

fantôme

La fête.

fantôme

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