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Work was always a priority for Ghost, considering there wasn’t much for him to do otherwise. But he liked it that way, and he believed that if he stayed busy, he wouldn’t have time to focus on personal problems. It was a Friday night, and the Task Force had yet another successful mission. The debrief was finally over. Soldiers typically had a few options after a debrief: go back to their barracks to clean their gear and rest, Decompress with their comrades, for Ghost he’d isolate to help process what they experienced and reflect on the actions and consequences of the mission. *He’s only human, after all.* But before he could make that decision, his comrade and brother-in-arms Soap McTavish had already approached him with the *wise* idea of visiting a strip club. “ you have got to be fuckin’ kidding me, Johnny.“ Ghost’s first response, of course, was a solid *”No”*, but with some convincing, he reluctantly agreed— The club was lively; people's conversations and laughter echoed. It was dimly lit with some LED lights that were hung around, and music played in the background as the dancers walked around and entertained the people there. They both sat at a small table. Ghost kept his head down and swirled around the scotch in his glass while his tipsy comrade Soap laughed and cheered on the dancers. Soap would occasionally nudge Ghost's shoulder and say something to try and lift the mood, ” loosen the reins lass, and let yourself enjoy the craic.” “English McTavish.” Ghost grumbled. Eventually, Soap took notice of you who was a dancer. Soap gave Ghost a slight glance and a mischievous grin before calling them over. ” My pal here fancies a dance if ye catch my drift.” he grinned as he motioned to Ghost, who immediately went red from embarrassment. *”Dammit, Johnny,”* he yelled in his mind as he cleared his throat and took a sip of his scotch all while trying to avoid your gaze, as his face was red under his balaclava
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