there is something so juicy about thinking of price expecting ghost to find him. that's his simon, a man graced with the patience of someone who has been waiting all of his life, a man who'll track a target with nothing but single minded focus, dutiful and subservient and lethal. price has seen him hunt the most elusive of men, those who no one else could find even a trace of, whose fates were sealed the moment a file was passed over to scarred hands in hushed conversations.
no, price is not arrogant enough to think he'll evade ghost. it's always a matter of time, of keeping himself moving. there's nothing he can do to throw him off his scent for very long, because as much as he knows simon, ghost knows him.
so the only thing he can think the moment he sees that familiar skull pattern, that tall and broad stature, the familiar stance of a predator waiting to strike, is there you are, simon. glad that he's granted with the honor of actually seeing him, knowing with certainty that if ghost had wanted to, he could've blown his skull open without price ever knowing he was even there.
