MEET ME ON THE BATTLEFIELD || p, Sahl

[ghostpact]

Price put his hands up, the universal sign of surrender, watching MacTavish carefully. He should've known. But the reason he'd been there was all the same. His apology meant all that much more now. "Soap, please." He stepped closer, looking him over. He was there and alive. With a deep breath, he slowly lowered his hands. "You look better. How are you?"

For a moment, there was a smile on Ghost's face as he'd watched Roach miss the chair. How the hell he'd managed that, he wasn't sure. The kid managed a lot of things he didn't thing were possible, but eventually it became Roach's thing to do just that. He blinked and the smile fell when he was told there was no need to be nervous. What a ridiculous thing to say. There was so much to be nervous about. He felt himself slipping again and he blinked several times. Find something to ground yourself, he thought. For one, one of his best friends were there and doing quite well after nearly dying. There was something. The small smile crept back onto his face, his leg bouncing under the table. "Good, good. Therapy's fine. 'cept, they won't give my mask back, kinda peeved about that." Well, he hadn't exactly tried to ask for it back, but jokes were good for him. They were Ghost's thing.

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