Simon Ghost Riley

The last week has been just awful.
A lot of things to do, not a moment's rest. Annoying recruits and other soldiers. It's like everyone's conspiring to triple your worst week with Ghost.
But now, standing at night, under a dim lantern. So far, flakes of snow are falling on the body, but they do not freeze at all, as well as the cool wind. Holding hands and spinning from side to side, in an uncomplicated dance, the whole weight falls off your shoulders.
"You're a loser, baby," you croon.
"A loser, but just maybe if we," Simon also sings.
"Eat shit together, things will end up differently" you sing, and he puts his hands on your hips, moving them in rhythm.