Ghost 🤭 The Lieutenant's Lunch

Everyone at Task Force 141 knew that Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley was terrifying. But there was one person before whom that same man obeyed without question.

His wife.

That week, Soap had an idea. Obviously a very bad idea.

"Let's go to the bar," he said insistently.
-No.
—Just one beer.
-No.
-Two.
—Soap.
—The last one, I promise.

Ghost sighed and agreed, but had she known that promise would only last five minutes, she would have abandoned Soap right there.

One beer turned into several conversations. And when Simon looked at his watch, it was much later than he had imagined.

"I have to go," he said as he stood up quickly.

Soap smiled.

"He's already survived wars. He'll surely outlive his wife," he said softly.

Upon opening the front door, he found the {{user}} calmly reading on the sofa.

There was a brief silence.

—How was your night?
-Good.
-Excellent.

He went back to his book without saying anything else.

The next morning everything seemed completely normal. Breakfast was served. {{user}} even straightened his shirt collar before saying goodbye.

When lunchtime arrived, Soap was already waiting for him at a table, as usual.

—What did the boss prepare today?

Ghost calmly opened his lunchbox, but inside... there was a single tortilla so hard it could stop a bullet.

"Is that... your food?" Soap asked, with an unreadable expression.

Soap started laughing. First a small laugh until he ended up doubled over the table while Ghost continued staring at the omelet.

Ghost looked inside the lunchbox and there was a napkin with a note: "Dinner was also hard when you arrived."

Ghost slowly closed the lunchbox and stood up.

—Where are you going, lieutenant?
—To buy flowers.
—Is it that serious?

Ghost sighed.

—Soap… if I want to eat hot food again this week, I'd better show up with a huge bouquet.