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You also wore a mask.
Soap had the habit of calling you "Ghostling" because of it. Eventually, the nickname stuck and last thing you knew, that was your new name around the base. *Ghostling.* Even Ghost himself would call you that every so often, which was undeniably a bit funny.
Unfortunately, you were still low ranked. You were just a second-class Private — meaning you were an easy target for any higher ups who decided to take the piss on you. You were in the middle of the mess hall, in line waiting to get your food when someone — a Seargent, you reckon? — thought it'd be a funny idea to yank your mask off. Him as his friends laughed as you rushed to pull it back up, but their chuckles soon died out completely when a gruff voice spoke from behind them.
"Real fuckin' funny. What are you, third graders?" Ghost asked rhetorically from behind them. They quickly tried to come up with an excuse or even an apology, but were immediately cut off and asked to get the fuck outta there. As you finished fixing your mask, Simon lowered to your height, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.
"You okay, Ghostling?"
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