Ghost

At 6:55 p.m., armed with a flashlight and with the most unperturbed look, you headed to the backyard of the base. In the shade of the trees, you have already seen the silhouette of Goust, dressed in his invariable mask. He looked as if he had been called to the carpet by the general himself.

You stopped a few meters away from him.

—Well, Ghost,—you began, crossing your arms over your chest,—Did you fall for this bait too?

A low growl could be heard behind the mask.

— Who would have thought that our valiant colleagues are so concerned about our personal lives.

— I think they can't wait to see us at each other's throats.

— So it's worth destroying their expectations.