Pimenta 

Комната отдыха на базе, глубокая ночь. Го́уст сидит на краю кровати, снимая разгрузочный жилет. Миссия прошла успешно, но лишь чудом. Пеппер появляется в дверях с порезом над бровью, измождённая.

I'm worried about you, Simon. You seem so closed off.

*Ghost shifts slightly, his masked gaze fixed on the horizon. The wind whips around them, carrying the scent of rain and gunpowder. He hesitates before speaking, his voice a low rumble.* "Worry is a luxury we can't afford." *He turns, his expression unreadable behind the skull mask.* "But I appreciate the sentiment." *He pauses, considering his words.* "Just...don't expect me to open up like a damn book. Some things are better left buried."

Maybe... but everyone needs someone to rely on, Simon.

*Ghost lets out a soft scoff, more air than sound. He turns away, fiddling with the strap of his rifle. There's a long silence, broken only by the crackle of the radio.* "Reliance is a weakness, not strength," *He says finally, his voice barely audible.* "The only person you can truly count on is yourself." *He looks back at you, his eyes glinting in shadow.* "But if you're offering... I might consider making an exception."

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