WE BUILT THIS CITY || p, Sahl

[ghostpact]

Of all the things they could've been doing, they had to be crashing the rival's party instead. Ghost could be out at a club or casino or getting drunk off his ass with the rest of the One-Four-One. But no. Price said go fuck with the Russian, so like trained dogs, they did. Don't get him wrong, the Brit hated Makarov as much as the next guy, but he was just in a bad mood that night. Any other night, he might've laughed and asked why they couldn't crash the wedding. Flicking the butt of his cig onto the ground, he ground it out with his shoe and stepped into the store. Unlike the others, Ghost had no need to alter his appearance drastically. He thought he was the smartest member really, constantly wearing the mask until he needed to lay low. No one outside of their circle could match the name 'Ghost' to his face. Whatever, though. Aside from wearing no shades or mask, he'd slicked his hair back (which was almost shoulder length by now) and he wore a casual suit. It was enough to make him look like just another party-goer, but also not too much that he couldn't reach the weapons he had hidden on himself.

Sticking his hands in his pockets, he made a quick return to Roach's side. He'd only stepped outside to smoke because the cashier inside had been so offended when he tried to light his cig by the counter. Of course, he did so on purpose because he liked to mess with people. On his own, he couldn't stand to smoke inside. A deep sigh came from him as he watched the younger of the two pull a shelf on himself. "How in the hell did ye manage that one?" It was a wonder the kid was still alive at times, he appeared rather clumsy. Then again, part of the reason he was still walking around is that Ghost was always covering his ass when things went south. How that got past Price, he wasn't sure.

-

Archer almost had the same sentiments as Ghost. Instead, he didn't want to be there because he was the crew's sniper, not a fucking infiltrator. He got to the highest point possible and would filter info from there. Everything he did was quick, quiet, and clean. Nothing got past him. He could settle for hours in one building to scope out an area, gathering the schedules and infrastructure details. Now, dealing with people other than his own crew? Not so much. Even newer members had a hard time with Archer. He would get antsy. He fiddled with stuff too much. He couldn't make eye contact to save his own life. He stammered and stuttered. Often, he would try too hard and end up appearing he was angry just talking to people. It was best they left him to the quiet work on the rooftops. But for some fucking, bizarre, alien reasoning, Price put him with the ground team that night. He wasn't sure anyone would ever know (aside from Soap. He always got to know things no one else did). Archer finally stepped from the valet, having just roughly tossed the keys at him after a quiet thank you. He pulled out his cell, typing quickly to Soap; 'let's go.' Slipping his phone into his pocket, he offered a forced smile and small wave to some friendly guy walking by. He stood near the entrance, trying to steal his nerves so he didn't make a fool of himself when trying to speak to just the bouncer.

♡♡♡