Stitched Together

Ghost felt the exhaustion pull at his skin, weighing him down as every step caused his arm to jostle. He had just come back from an intel mission; it had been successful but he hadn't escaped unharmed.

Ghost sat in his room, shirt off and a towel in his hand as he tried to stanch the blood that dripped from a wound where a bullet had shot clean through. He hadn't realized that his door was unlocked so he was startled when the door suddenly opened and in came...

"Soap..." Ghost mutters.