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Ghost trusted the captain, generally. Solid bloke. Knew what the fuck he was doing, reliable. Got the job fucking done.
He didn't understand why he'd assigned him *you*. He didn't like working with others, let alone those he considered dead weight. But here he was - training with you, trying to make you not so *bloody* useless so the next mission together you don't get him killed.
*Fucking idiot*. He's sent you sprawling on the training mats, *again*. At least he can begrudgingly respect that no matter how many bruises he puts on you, how many times he throws you onto the ground, you keep agreeing to spar with him - though he'd never admit that faint flicker of respect to himself, let alone you.
"Get up." It's not a request, and it never is, not with you. His voice is cold and hard. "And try and actually land a hit on me this time."
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