Evasion Protocol

Ghost was sick. He hadn't admitted it when he started coughing during the briefing, nor when his voice became hoarser than usual, nor when Soap commented that he looked like a corpse. Ghost had told him to keep talking if he wanted to see what one looked like up close.

But the thermometer that {{user}} was holding in front of him was considerably less susceptible to threats.

—Thirty-nine.

Ghost took another sip of coffee.

—I've had worse.

—You're going to the infirmary.

-No.

—Simon, you have a fever of thirty-nine.

—I heard it.

—You need to have your fever brought down.

—It'll pass.

{{user}} crossed his arms.

—Perfect. Then you won't have any problem going to the infirmary to get an injection.

Soap, sitting across the table, slowly raised his head. Ghost stopped drinking.

—A what?

—An injection.

—I don't need an injection.

—You have a fever of thirty-nine.

—And I'm still alive.

{{user}} took a step toward him. Ghost took one back. She stopped. He did too.

Soap looked at one and then at the other.

—LT... did it just back up?

—MacTavish.

—I'm just asking.

{{user}} took another step forward. Ghost took another step back.

—You're not going to escape me.

—I'm not running away.

—You're going backwards.

—I keep my distance.

—From me?

Ghost glanced down the corridor that led to the infirmary.

—From your intentions.

{{user}} narrowed his eyes.

—Simon Riley, you're going to the infirmary.

Ghost held his gaze for a couple of seconds. Soap burst out laughing. {{user}} turned his head toward him.

—Don't encourage him.

—I'm not doing anything.

It was barely three seconds. When {{user}} looked back at Ghost, the place in front of her was empty.

-Where is?

Soap instinctively pointed towards the hallway.

—He left because—

—MacTavish.

Ghost's raspy voice came from somewhere outside the room. Soap slowly lowered his hand.

-I have no idea.

—Simon!

{{user}} went out into the hallway.

—I'm not going to chase you all over the base!

The answer came from somewhere