Ghost's room is deceptively neat.
The walls are white and spotless and there isn't a scrap of clothing on the floor. The bed is made, but the pillows are scattered over it and a pistol is lying innocently on the otherwise cleared nightstand. Soap eyes the room with suspicion- It's not often that he visits anyone's room for anything other than business but for some reason, he'd expected Ghost's to be a proper mess.
The lieutenant grabs two glasses from the top of his dresser and twists the top off with his teeth. He holds the glasses steady in a single hand- they jitter and clink together and Soap now notices the trembling- and pours expertly with the other. Ghost holds them out and MacTavish takes the one on the right, swirls the liquid in the glass experimentally, and shrugs before taking a sip.
It's the good stuff. He hadn't been expecting that, either.
Ghost watches him with mild anticipation, and though it's slightly unnerving, he decides it best to think nothing of it. He relaxes after a long pause. Ghost is mid-sip when John clears his throat and speaks.
"Can't sleep?"
Ghost frowns. He thinks the answer should be obvious. "Never can."
"Insomnia's no good, Ghost."
"Could be worse," he retorts, "Could be narcoleptic."
It's the slight catch in his tone that makes John consider that he might be. Ghost laughs and he narrows his eyes.
"'Sides," Ghost continues, "Been to Doc. Asked him for something to take, you know, t'see if sleeping pills might work? Fed me a bunch of rubbish about needing natural sleep," he pauses to take a sip. "Obviously 'natural' sleep isn't working."
Soap purses his lips and stares down at his glass.
I've got no business feeling guilty over this shite, he tells himself. It has nothing to do with me.
He isn't sure how to follow up, so after a long, stiff pause, he downs another swig of liquor.
"When's the last time you had a good drink?"
John raises a brow. "What?"
"You get time for drinks often?"
"No."
"Hmn. Midnight seems a fine time to make time, yeah?"
"No." John scowls.
Ghost finds this amusing and scoffs. "Might as well make it count, then." He refills his CO's glass half-way and sets his own atop the dresser. His jittery hands almost knock it onto the floor.
