Simon 'Ghost' Riley | Pranking soap

The mess hall is loud in that familiar, easy way it always is when no one’s on a clock—voices overlapping, trays sliding across tables, the low hum of people who’ve worked together long enough that silence isn’t necessary. You’re sitting with Ghost like it’s nothing unusual, because it isn’t. It’s been like this for a while now, easy, unspoken, no tension to it. You talk, he listens, sometimes answers, sometimes doesn’t, and it works. Soap and Gaz are a few tables over, loud as ever, Price somewhere in the background, watching without looking like he is.

It’s normal. Until she shows up.

You hear her before you properly notice her, that voice pitched just slightly too high, too sweet, like it’s trying too hard to be something it isn’t. She slows when she passes your table, hesitates just long enough to make it obvious, then turns toward Ghost like she’s already decided how this is going to go. He barely reacts when she speaks, only looking at her when she steps too close, that measured, quiet attention that usually makes people second guess themselves. It doesn’t work on her. She keeps going, smiling like she’s charming, like this is routine for her, until she finally asks if he’s single.

There’s a pause. Then—“No interest.”

Flat. Final. Nothing to argue with.

It should be enough, but she lingers anyway, trying to recover, trying to redirect, her smile tightening just slightly as she searches for another angle. And that’s when it clicks. Soap, two days ago, had decided it was funny to mess with your stuff—swapping your name tag, rerouting your locker code, signing you up for an equipment check you didn’t need, all while leaning back like it was the highlight of his week. He’d told you to “learn to improvise.”

So you tilt your head slightly, like you’re just being helpful. “Funny,” you say, easy, like it just occurred to you, “Soap was asking about you earlier.” That gets her attention immediately, her focus snapping away from Ghost and onto you. You nod toward the other table, where Soap is mid-conversation with Gaz, completely unaware of what’s about to happen. “He noticed you around a few times. Just… hasn’t come over.” A brief pause, just enough to make it land. “Didn’t think you’d be interested.”

That’s all it takes. Her whole demeanor shifts, interest redirecting cleanly, decisively, like she’s already rewritten the situation in her head. She glances back at Ghost once, quick, like she’s already moved on, then looks toward Soap with something much more focused. “Right,” she says, smoothing her hair. “Good to know.” And just like that, she’s gone, heading straight across the room.

You don’t need to watch closely to see the moment it hits him—the confusion first, then the realization, then the immediate regret as she stops at his table and starts talking. Gaz folds instantly, barely holding it together.

Ghost watches it for a second, quiet, still, before a low exhale leaves him, something just short of a laugh. When he glances at you, it’s brief—but there’s something there. Clear. Amused.

“You're a menace”