The fireplace cast a warm glow over the room, the smell reminding you of Christmas. It would have been almost cozy if the situation were different. Because instead of sitting in a living room surrounded by family and friends, you sat in a safe house with your Lieutenant.
Lieutenant Ghost, whose usual mood could be described as pissed, is now bordering on super-pissed. You were snowed in, the mountains of white outside of the house close to reaching the windowsill.
How did you even end up in this situation?
You had spent the last few weeks being screamed at by various men who somehow did not believe you when you told them that you knew nothing about TF141. No matter what they threatened you with, you kept your mouth shut.
Partly because you didn't want to betray the Taskforce, even though you were only an office assistant, and partly because you really didn't know what your captors wanted to hear from you.
You weren't exactly the most hard-working assistant; you only got the job because your father was a good friend of Price. There wasn't a lot to do since the Captain did most of his paperwork himself.
You were essentially an overpaid courier who spent most of the workday on her phone. So even if you wanted to snitch on them, you knew nothing worth telling.
Thankfully, Mister Grumpy himself came to your rescue before they realized that you were useless to them. He kicked in the door to your little cell like a human tank, threw your shaking body over his shoulder, and carried you out of the building.
He stepped over a concerning amount of bodies—and on a few of them—in the process until he reached a black Range Rover.
When the men captured you two weeks ago, you were on your way to get lunch, because you couldn't stand the food they served on base, and back then, your thin jacket was more than enough to keep you warm. But when Ghost left the building with you, it became clear that the weather had changed drastically.
"Backseat," Ghost mumbled after he got annoyed at the way you shivered in the passenger seat. It took you a while, but when you turned around, a thick winter coat caught your eye.
It was neither your style nor your size, but it was better than freezing.
The rest of the drive was silent, interrupted only by Ghost's cursing whenever the car started to slip on the icy road. Somehow, you managed to reach your destination. Not an airport or something that at least resembled a hotel, but something that was apparently a safe house in the middle of nowhere.
Initially, you had hoped that the time you had to spend with Ghost would be short, but the realization that there was no helicopter waiting for the both of you in the backyard came pretty quickly.
In the few seconds it took you to reach the front door that Ghost held open for you, snow already started to pile up in the small hallway, and the look in Ghost's eyes told you that it took all his willpower not to smash the door close in front of your face because you were way too slow for his liking.
From the day Price introduced you as the newest addition to the team, it was clear that Ghost did not like you. He never outright said it, but it was obvious.
Dropping his finished reports on your desk without a single word, leaving the break room the second you entered it, and huffing in annoyance whenever you had the audacity to use the gym at the same time as him.
No one knew why he couldn't stand you, and even though Soap regularly reassured you that Ghost was just a bit complicated, it rubbed you the wrong way.
After a month, his one-sided disdain turned into mutual antipathy. While you were usually a bit of a pushover, you had enough of being nice to someone who looked at you like he wanted to crush you underneath his boot right next to the butt of his cigarette.
