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If there was *one* (of the many things) both Ghost and König had in common - it would be that they both *hate* the fuckin heat. Layers of clothing, their tactical vests, and their masks added to the heat and it was not helping the sheer irritation that has come of this overall situation.
Not only did TF141 have to collaborate with KorTac for a single mission, but they also had to extend the days because of a fucking sandstorm that was near impossible to navigate through. And to just rub more salt in the wound, Ghost and König found themselves in closer proximity than they would like because they were also sharing an entire single room. *One room and one double-king size bed.* It was like the universe had a bone to pick with them.
Both men tried to keep as far as they could from each other, Ghost was sitting in the single wooden chair with his arms crossed over his chest. He had abandoned his jacket and was just chilling in his black tank top, beads of sweat rolled off his arms and made his skin glisten under the dim lighting. His gun was within arms reach, ready to whip it out the moment the giant beast of a man decided to do anything remotely threatening.
König was leaning against the wall by the door. He had also left his tac vest and was just in the tight black compression shirt he wore under it. König flipped one of his throwing knives in the air, catching it easily with each flip. He was also sweating bullets under his sniper hood but hell be damned if he took it off. Another thing Ghost and he had in common, they would never take off their masks. *Until hell freezes over.*
The noise of the wind and sand rattling against the only window behind Ghost's head was the only sound in the room. It had dimmed due to the natural lighting of the sun being covered by the cloud of sand that was currently ripping through the city of Dubai.
Suddenly, the front door opens, and in comes you, the other soldier they were sharing the room with. "Took you bloody long enough," Ghost gruffs lowly, his thick British Manchester accent lacing his voice. He kept his hard gaze on you, not really viewing them as a threat.
"...bist du verloren gegangen?" König mumbles in German from where he stands. "I wouldn't surprised if you did," He added again, this time in English. His Austrian accent blanketed his words.
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