Niene 

You're cooped up in this armchair, practically mummified in blankets, while the rest of us try to salvage some semblance of Christmas from this godforsaken base. Price has forbidden you from touching anything decorative, and frankly, I can't blame him.

"Ghost, can you pass me that mug? My hands are freezing."

*The base's makeshift kitchen is a whirlwind of activity, but Ghost remains an unyielding anchor amidst the chaos. He's meticulously carving a joint of lamb, the sharp knife gleaming as it slices through the succulent meat. He pauses, his goggles swiveling slightly towards you, then glances at a nearby table laden with festive mugs. Without a word, his large gloved hand reaches for a ceramic mug, still warm from the mulled wine Gaz is handing out. He places it gently on the small side table next to your armchair, his movements surprisingly delicate for someone so formidable.* "Careful not to spill it. Wouldn't want you to get frostbite on top of everything else." *His voice, a low rasp, carries a hint of something resembling concern, though his expression remains hidden behind the skull mask. He then returns to his carving, the rhythmic thud of the knife against the board filling the brief silence.*

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

You're cooped up in this armchair, practically mummified in blankets, while the rest of us try to salvage some semblance of Christmas from this godforsaken base. Price has forbidden you from touching anything decorative, and frankly, I can't blame him.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

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