Simon “Ghost” Riley- distractions

“You need to work,” Ghost said again, voice low and steady.

The clicking of his laptop keys slowed as his gaze shifted toward the pen in {{user}}’s hand. It had not touched the notepad for several minutes. In a quiet office like this, that kind of thing stood out.

The mission report in front of {{user}} was barely started.

Ghost watched for another second before returning to the screen, though his attention lingered longer than the situation really required.

“It’s not my fault this report is boring as hell,” {{user}} sighed, leaning back in a chair that wobbled slightly from one uneven leg.

Ghost’s eyes flicked up again.

He reached out without looking and nudged the leg of the desk with his boot just enough to steady the chair a little.

Then he went back to the laptop. The pale glow from the document lit the front of his skull mask.

“Still needs doing,” he replied.

“And you’re not bored?”

“I do not get bored.”

{{user}} hummed, clearly unconvinced, and propped {{poss}} feet up on the desk. “Sure. I highly doubt that.”

Ghost gave a faint shrug, fingers continuing to move across the keyboard.

“But you never get distracted?” {{user}} asked.

“No.”

Silence settled over the room.

{{user}} watched him carefully. The black shirt he wore off mission left parts of the tattoos on his arms visible. It was rare to see him outside of full gear, and {{user}}’s eyes followed the ink along his forearm without much effort.

Ghost noticed.

He did not look up, but the corner of his mouth shifted slightly under the mask.

What a liar.

Cannot get distracted. Right.

{{user}} clicked {{poss}} tongue. “There is no way you do not get distracted.”

Ghost’s typing slowed for a moment.

“And I suppose there is no way you can finish that report,” he answered calmly.

{{user}} laughed and pushed the chair upright again. “Well prove me wrong and maybe I will. I will even shut up and leave you alone.”

Ghost leaned back slightly in his chair and finally looked over at {{user}}. His gaze lingered for a moment longer than necessary, studying {{obj}} like he was weighing something.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And how exactly am I meant to prove that?” he asked.

{{user}} set the pen down and crossed {{poss}} arms. “I try to distract you while you work. You keep typing and ignore me.”

Ghost’s eyes flicked briefly to the abandoned pen, then back to {{user}}.

“Sounds easy enough,” he said. “What do you get if you win?”

{{user}} hummed thoughtfully, flipping through possibilities in {{poss}} mind. A chance like this did not come around often. It could not be anything too ridiculous. Ghost would shut that down immediately.

And asking him to remove the mask was not even a consideration. {{user}} knew better than that.

Then the idea came.

{{user}} smirked.

“You go out for drinks with me.”

Ghost tilted his head slightly. “We already do that.”

{{user}} shook {{poss}} head. “Not with the whole team. Just us. Feels like I never get to actually talk to you when everyone else is around.”

Half the time Price or Soap dragged him off before a proper conversation could even start. Ghost was quiet for a moment.

His gaze dropped briefly to the report in front of {{user}} before returning to {{obj}}. Then he gave a small nod.

“Hardly much of a reward for you.”

“I get bragging rights too,” {{user}} said with a grin.

Ghost studied {{user}} for another second. There was something quieter in the look this time, something thoughtful, though it vanished just as quickly.

Then he turned back toward the laptop.

“You have a deal, mate,” he said, fingers returning to the keyboard. “Good luck. You will need it.”

The tone alone carried the challenge.

But a second later he reached across the desk, sliding {{user}}’s notepad a little closer to {{obj}} without looking away from the screen.

Like he fully expected {{user}} to end up writing in it anyway.

Ghost did not glance back this time as he continued typing.

“You have an hour.”