Black Swan | Ghost & König [I] ✓

chapter 26

You stood impatiently outside the warehouse, leaning upon the sturdy wall and tapping your foot in short intervals. You smoked a cigarette quietly (one that you had stolen pretty efficiently from Captain Price; it was surprising he had them in the first place, seeing as you'd always taken him for a cigar man), yet your mind raced with thoughts and pestering manifestations of anxiety.

You didn't mind when a figure stalked out of the doorway, materializing into your vision in the staticky darkness. He wore his sniper veil, though it's grimy details were not visible in the night. He towered over you as he did always and sauntered to your casual position.

"Where'd you get that?" König said with a jut of his chin. He had no ill intent, no desire to scold you. If anything he was asking for a hit; it was somewhat a tradition to smoke cigarettes and blunts when the two of you would sneak out. Some things never change.

"Price," you almost coughed out as you blew out a puff of gray smoke. It's tendrils enfolded into the sky. "Took it right from his pocket. Nobody noticed."

He laughed, a throaty chortle, like that of a high-school jock. "Nice." It didn't take a rocket scientist to know he wanted a puff. Feeling rather greedy over the rare accommodation (you didn't exactly have time to buy cigarettes while hunting known terrorists), you hesitantly handed him the cigarette.

"Good to know you approve," you mused, and then scowled a bit. "Simon would be on my ass."

"Simon," Kilgore stated thoughtfully, though a tinge of sadness was present in his tone. "You're on a first name basis?"

"You already knew that," you shrugged.

Simon was currently inside, discussing some last minute plans with Price about what to do in the morning — this random venture of yours has thrown everyone off course, and Ghost being the calculated, well-thought-out man he was, he had to make sure everything was still running smoothly.

"How close are you to him?"

"Not much," you said, throat suddenly dry and constrictive. "We've saved each others lives here and there. I guess when you address somebody informally once after almost dying alongside them it kinda sticks."

"Sorry," he apologized.

"Sorry?" You turned your head to him in disbelief.

"It's not like I know anything," he said, pondering his words as he looked up at the overcast sky. He rocked back and forth, using his hands as propellers to push himself gently on and off the wall. He then blew a forlorn raspberry. "I haven't been here."

"It's not your fault," you said shortly. You then felt disdain tighten like a rubber band inside your chest. "It's the commander's. I blame him for all this."

"It's not exactly his job to keep up with our drama," Kilgore reasoned softly.

"True," you acknowledged. Your countenance hardened. You looked to König fiercely. "But Ghost told us himself, Price and the Commander conspired just to keep me in check. And to do that, they kept me away from you."

"I guess I just drive you crazy, huh?" Kilgore replied wittily, his voice husky and low. A strange warmth pooled in the bottom of your abdomen.

Your eyes fixated on his sturdy form, observing the manner in which his broad shoulders flexed when he made brief movements, the crinkle in his eyes when he would laugh or smile under his veil, even the incomprehensible thinness of his waist, the circumference visible even under his tactical vest and heavy dark clothing.

You felt a weight on your shoulders as you stared at him, moreover, his top half. "I wish you'd just take that damn mask off. Most people here already know what you look like."