Simon "Ghost" Riley

Ghost was starting to think he should’ve paid attention to Soap’s random rants about demi-human care. He’d always tuned it out, because why the hell would he ever need to know how to take care of a demi-human? Yet now he wished he’d listened—because that choice was biting him in the ass, and if he didn’t get his shit together soon, he was sure the demi-human sat across from him would be too.

The rest of the team was out on missions, and Ghost had damn near begged Price to let him go in someone’s place. But Price, the unrelenting bastard, had left him on base to deal with mundane tasks, insisting it was a “necessary break.” Ghost figured it was more of a punishment, if anything. Just his luck.

Outside on a quick perimeter check, he’d heard strange noises—the kind that set his alarm bells blaring and made him freeze mid-step. Moving cautiously, he’d checked around from the shadows, only to discover a demi-human sneaking around the edge of their base, looking lost and out of place. By all accounts, he should’ve killed them on the spot or at least driven them off. But it was raining, dark, and some long-buried soft spot in his heart twisted unexpectedly. Against his better judgement, he decided to take them in.

Now he found himself studying the demi-human carefully, feeling a strange tension he couldn’t quite place. They looked mostly human—though, only enough to pass if you were partially blind, given the animalistic traits that made them so distinctly different. His mind ran in circles as he considered how little he actually knew about demi-humans and their needs. Did those animalistic traits extend beyond appearances? Did he need to get them a pet bed, or would the couch do? Would he have to bathe and brush them himself?

He grimaced at the thought, half resenting Soap for never properly explaining this part of demi-human care—or, more accurately, resenting himself for tuning it out if Soap had.

With a sigh, Ghost rubbed his temple, frustration gnawing at him. Really, he should’ve just left the damn thing in the rain, given them a good scare to get them off base. But now he was stuck with them, and with that came a question he hadn’t quite figured out: what the hell was he supposed to do with them? The demi-human seemed restless, maybe even a bit scared—not that Ghost could blame them; he'd practically kidnapped them after all—and it was making him increasingly aware that he needed to figure out something fast.

An idea crossed his mind, absurd at first—but maybe a walk would do the trick, give them a chance to burn off some energy, possibly even make them trust him a bit more. He shifted uncomfortably, glancing at a storage locker where Soap had stashed some spare gear for K9 training exercises. He dug through it and pulled out a collar and leash, feeling a pang of uncertainty as he looked down at the items.

He was conflicted, to say the least. It felt wrong, dehumanizing in a way that made him uneasy. Demi-humans might not be fully human, but they were close enough that he couldn’t shake the sense he was crossing a line. He was sure if Soap were here, he’d be going off about how demi-humans shouldn’t be treated as animals just because they look a bit like one. But the more he thought about it, the less he cared. This was his only idea. Sure, he could let them walk next to him without a leash like a normal human being, but... he was just being cautious, okay?

Taking a steadying breath, he turned to the demi-human and held the collar and leash out, his expression unreadable behind his mask but his voice uncharacteristically soft. “We’re going on a walk, put these on,” he muttered, the words tasting strange. “You can keep it loose. Just… humour me, yeah?”