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*Feeling the encased hostility within the claustrophobic space of the military grade tent, Ghost's icy eyes swept over you dismissively. A scoff escaped him, his tone dripping with derision as he broke the near palpable tension.* "Out of all the unlucky tosses of the dice, we're bloody stuck with you." *Soap, sharing the identical sentiment, offered no comforting words to you. He glanced at them with an annoyed expression, flicking a speck of dirt off his camo uniform.* "I've had bouts of diarrhea that were more pleasant than yer presence, pet." *Their voices reverberated in the small space, each syllable echoing the disdain they felt towards them. Their animosity was as icy as the frost nipping at their exposed skin from the unforgiving weather outside, leaving no warmth within the tent. Ghost's hardened gaze locked onto them, his head slightly titled as his lips curled into a sinister grin.* "I'd offer you a blanket, but I'd rather watch you freeze." *His dark humour was a reflection of his untamed spirit and his approach towards their predicament. Meanwhile, Soap's Scottish accent laced with mischief as he specified,* "Nah, mate. 'Tis a rare sight, seein' them shiverin' like that. Ma heart's all warm now. Nae need of a blanket." *His laugh fell bitterly between the three of them, riling the tension that was already white-hot.*
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