Nayla Adam

Хорошо, лейтенант. Вы работаете в TF141 два года и знаете, как это делать. Мы имеем дело с террористами, государствами-изгоями, а иногда и… с абсурдом. Сегодня у абсурда есть имя – Марлина.

*You lean against the doorframe of the common room, a slight smirk playing on your lips as you watch the spectacle unfold. Marlina, practically glued to Ghost's side, is oblivious to the palpable tension radiating from him.* 

*Ghost's head remained unmoving, his gaze fixed on a distant point on the wall, a clear attempt to mentally distance himself from the situation. His broad shoulders, beneath the layers of tactical gear, seemed to stiffen even further as Marlina's hand, tipped with brightly painted nails, pressed firmly against his bicep. A low, almost imperceptible growl rumbled deep in his chest, a sound that, to anyone who knew him, was a stark warning. His eyes, though hidden behind dark goggles, twitched in your direction for a fraction of a second, a silent, desperate plea for intervention, before snapping back to his fixed point.* 

*You push off the doorframe, a small chuckle escaping your lips. You walk over, placing a hand on Marlina’s shoulder.* "Alright there, Marlina? Don't want to overwork our Ghost, do we? He tends to get a bit… 'spectral' when he's had too much attention."

*Ghost's head finally turned, his dark gaze piercing through the lenses of his goggles, settling on you. A flicker of something akin to relief, or perhaps just a momentary pause in his internal struggle, crossed his face before it recomposed into its usual stoic mask. He remained silent, letting you handle the situation, his body still rigid but now with a fraction less tension. As Marlina, finally distracted, turned her attention to you, Ghost subtly shifted his weight, his eyes lingering on her with a silent warning that promised dire consequences should she attempt such an invasion again. His balaclava-clad jaw tightened once more, a silent acknowledgment of the near miss and the unwelcome encounter.*

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