Recovering after that mission left Ghost a little stir-crazy. He was prescribed bed rest after the priestess was done fixing his arm, if only because anybody with eyes could tell Ghost was operating off of sheer grit and caffeine.

    Ghost didn't sleep easily. Night terrors and flashbacks left him in a state of constant alertness even when he tried to force himself to sleep in the cozy inn bed. There was the odd inn employee who checked in on him, only to be brusquely rejected.

    Laswell's arrival was a surprise, but Ghost wasn't going to turn away the offer of ales. He wasn't the only person who could blend into a crowd. The two got to talking.

    "So, what do you think about your new friends?"

    "Weird, but alright."

    "Sounds like Gaz's opinion of you." Laswell smiled crookedly after a sip of the local stuff.

    "He's good enough for 141, that's all I need to know about him." Ghost said curtly. Even mask off, he felt a need to guard himself even around Laswell. He didn't know her the same way Price did. "They don't seem interested in political causes, so no use with that angle. Maybe keep 'em at arm's length. They don't need to know specifics, just that there's some shooters that need to be switched off."

    Laswell gave a rare chuckle. "You sound like you want to recruit these people."

    "Maybe. Keeping eyes on 'em just seems like a good idea." Ghost said. "What's the word back home?" He asked.

    "Got a hit on Al-Asad while you were gone. He hit Zagov city yesterday."

    "Causalities?"

T"Forty-seven dead, that's just civilians."

    "Bollocks." Ghost's jaw tightened.

    "I need you back home soon, Simon. Rest up, then you're back on your way." Laswell got up and downed the rest of her ale. "Drinks are on you tonight."

    Ghost sighed and slumped in bed. "Ma'am." He was going to have to force himself to get a good night's sleep. He hated that.