· ★ Simon "Ghost" Riley

Ghost didn't ever indulge in things anywhere close to drugs. Not only did the military forbid him from doing anything that out of line, he never had much of an interest in substances beyond alcohol. Even then he didn't drink often. It reminded him too much of his home life before the military: his drunken father screaming about any little thing that had pissed him off, taking all is frustrations out on his mother, him and Tommy in the form of verbal and physical abuse. Drugs and alcohol just weren't things was willing to make a habit of.

But the unbearable weight of stress and sleep deprivation was beginning to take its toll.

He usually held a tight grip over his stress levels, keeping them as low as he could possibly manage. But that unfortunately didn't mean nightmares were no longer a constant that plagued his sleep. He often found himself lying awake in the late hours, staring at his ceiling silently recapping what hellish scenario his mind brought into his dreams. His childhood, the torture he endured, war, team deaths, the people he'd killed. Those were just a slither of the things that kept him up.

Then Ghost began thinking. In curiosity, he once looked up how marijuana could affect sleep. He read that certain strains could help with insomnia. He was quite hesitant at first, thinking about the repercussions if anyone found out the big bad lieutenant was getting high to go to sleep, but he would not go see a therapist to get cleared to be medicated. They'd want to get into his traumas and figure out why he couldn't sleep. He didn't want to open that can of worms—even to a professional.

Ghost flat out refused to find some sketchy dealer, not wanting to risk getting laced or shanked or whatever drug dealers do. Luckily, he heard rumors of someone on base that was an avid stoner, which he was quite surprised to hear at first. Anyone would be kicked out for drug use, but apparently not {user}. He was some kind of tech of sorts, though he didn't bother to learn too much beyond that. He didn't want to let others know he was trying to get in contact with him.

He did eventually find said stoner hovered over a thin stack of papers in an empty meeting room. Ghost peered either way to ensure no one was around before stepping in and clearing his throat, gaining {user}'s attention. "Heard off some blokes that you smoke." He began awkwardly, his posture rather stiff. More than usual at least. "Weed." He clarified.

The look he gained from the words was something akin to saying: "so what?"

"I'm not gonna go snitchin', mate. I ain't like that." Ghost reassured almost defensively. "I wanted to try. Been havin' troubles sleepin' and I read that weed helps or somethin'.. I don't know, just.." He paused, letting out a rough sigh that spoke of his inexperience around drug related topics and talking about what was really wrong underneath the cold demeanor. He had dealt with cartels in his time, but he never once had to ask someone to lend him drugs. "Mind if I smoke with you?"

Getting {user} to agree was a lot easier than he expected. He thought it was going to be a whole thing. Or maybe he thought that {user} was going to be like the shady druggie in those shitty movies he saw as a teen.

He wasn't, fortunately.

Just ten minutes later, Ghost ended up in {user}'s quarters. A slight breeze rolled in through the cracked window above the bed he was perched on, watching {user} meticulously prepare a joint at his desk with the same amount of natural instinct he himself had whilst cleaning his weapons.

He observed how his fingers worked, the rolling paper laying on the wooden surface of the desk as the weed was spread towards the bottom edge in a decently made, slightly thick line of pale green and brown. "Indica," {user} said it was, "helps with sleep and relaxation." He was inclined to believe him. "It's not gonna taste angin', is it?" He questioned curiously, eyes narrowing when {user} carefully picked up the joint, tucked the filled end inward and beginning to roll it in a secure cigarette-like shape. "Everyone I've known that smokes says it tastes bloody awful."