#(wheeze)

“Massive, those things,” Price muses. 

“Hard to find anything older than you nowadays, Cap’,” Gaz quips. It earns him a punch to the shoulder.

“First time seein’ ‘em myself,” Soap adds. “How dae ye think they did it?” 

Ghost, who’s been quietly staring out at the pyramids, turns slowly, intentionally. Tone dead serious when he says— 

“It was aliens.” 

Price and Gaz stare through the rearview mirror, incredulous. Soap’s jaw goes slack next to him.

“...Wot, mate?"

- - - - -

Ghost (and Soap), leading a knife training exercise back at base. 

A typical affair— they make rounds down the line of recruits, yelling at the ones who can barely toss straight and correcting the ones who can at least reach the wooden target boards. 

A pigeon flutters down onto the field behind them, quirking its neck and pecking the ground for non-existent grub. 

Ghost halts in place, eyes trained on the little thing. Soap follows his gaze, landing on the pigeon when—

Thunk. 

A knife slots into the dirt, just barely missing it. The bird hoots and puffs, wings beating in surprise before flying away. 

Soap jokes, “In the mood for kebab, Ghost?”

The man stares at the Scot. It sends something impending down his spine. “Government drones, can’t trust ‘em.” 

He blinks again, slower this time, with some added dumbfoundedness. “...I cannae tell if yer takin’ the piss or not, LT.” 

“Ever see ‘em nest, Johnny?” 

Soap wrinkles his brow. “...Nae, but—” 

“Really makes you think,” is all Ghost says before he walks away, like nothing ever happened. 

- - - - -

Soap, who has to take up Ghost’s bodyguard duty when he’s off on a solo op.

“—the UK did Scotland sooo dirty. You guys were so close to independence in 1979. It was one hundred percent rigged! Oh, and rest in peace William McRae, by the way. Not saying the government did it, but they totally did it—” 

Ah, he gets it now. 

Not a moment of hesitation before he pulls out his phone, drops a text to their group chat, saying—

been holdin out on us LT didn’t tell us you had a fun little bird all to yerself thought they were government drones that couldn’t be trusted? 

(And a— this who you get yer jokes from?--- after you say straight to his face: 

An Englishman, a Scotsman, and an Irishman walk into a pub. They get into a fistfight and the cops come. The Englishman and the Irishman get arrested. 

You stare at Soap wide-eyed as he waits for you to finish. Reminds him of an owl.

An’ what about the Scot?