"You… You…"
"You what, 'Tavish? You jealous?"
A low growl rumbled from the captain's chest. "Don't push it, Ghost. I'm mad enough with you as it is."
The masked man merely grinned beneath his balaclava. "It's not my fault we like each other, John. If you wanted her so bad, why didn't you make a move first?"
"I'm warning you, Ghost. Stay AWAY from her."
Ghost's grin grew wider. "She felt wonderful beneath my hands, John. All smooth and silky. You wouldn't believe the sounds she made when I touched her in just the right places."
A fist came hurtling to Ghost's face, changing course to the wall beside his ear just before it made contact.
John brought his face close to Ghost's, their noses a hair's breadth away from each other. The Scot's breathing came heavy ragged, almost panting. He was really riled up now.
"If you so much as touch her again, Ghost, I WILL kill you."
With that, the Scot turned sharply on his heel, and stormed from the firing range. Ghost grinned, and turned back to the targets. "Guess that's another win to me."
He stroked the barrel of his commanding officer's precious custom M4A1 Carbine, the metal still as smooth and silky as it had been just yesterday. "Now then. Shall we get back to work, love?"