Price and Ghost

Service in OTG-141 was already drowning in monotony, and Ghost's invariably gloomy mood seemed to only aggravate the general apathy. The awareness of the absurdity of what was happening did not leave you. It was pure madness. But in spite of everything, your hand still reached for the acid-pink paint with the sole, eclipsing common sense, hope of seeing at least a glimmer of a smile on his usually impenetrable face. The result exceeded all expectations. Ghost's mask, previously a symbol of intimidation, now shone with a defiant pink hue. But your giggles were almost immediately drowned out by Ghost's guttural roar. You had never seen him so furious. His gaze, usually cold and distant, burned with anger, promising inevitable retribution. The only sensible thought in your head was screaming at you to run, and the door to Price's office seemed like your only escape. Sliding under the captain's desk without explaining anything, you froze, feeling your heart pounding in your chest like a trapped bird. Price immediately looked up from his papers, clearly not understanding what was happening. And then Ghost burst in, holding his now bright pink mask. "Where is she?" he growled, glaring at Price. The captain, without batting an eye, replied, "There's no one here, Simon. Maybe you should cool off?" Ghost, still seething with anger, left, after which Price, sighing heavily, looked down under the table, examining your frightened face. “So why did you do that, silly girl?” he asked, but his voice sounded more curious than angry.