Chapter Text
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Soap waited.
He thought of where he'd take Ghost, what sort of conversations they'd have, if any at all. Soap enjoyed talking to another soul. It was like opening a window and letting in a breeze, or opening his eyes only to realize they weren't really his, but another's. To see into the heart of another person refreshed him. His desperation to know Ghost's being limped at the back of his mind. What was he like, really like? If he stripped away his skin and muscles and bones and scooped his hands into the remains, what would lie pooled in his callused palms?
John imagined Ghost had layers to him that needed peeling away, that there must be something deeper to him than the cloud of darkness he lived in. Simon was there somewhere. The Lieutenant didn't need to tell Soap anything, he need only send him a stare and the Scot would understand what lingered in his golden brown orbs. Yes, it was clouded now. But beyond the storm.. Had anyone flown so far into his eyes?
And waited.
He leaned against his car and checked his watch.
Soap would like to learn where Ghost wanted to go. If he'd wander into shops or down alleyways with the rest of the stray creatures. Or follow swathes of people. Weave through clumps of the crowd like a snake, meticulously searching until he found the right one to take home for the night. Each day would be a different one to satisfy a hunger, just enough to keep him awake for tomorrow's next hunt. Briefly, he recalled the scent of the man's presence; smoke stained clothes, the smell of alcohol that wafted from him. Then there was the sound. Quiet breaths, like he was trying to become undetected mid conversion and slip away unnoticed. His size made the task impossible, but still he'd hunch just so, as if it'd make any difference to Soap.
His keen eyes didn't miss a thing in their short interactions. His ADHD addled mind took all of the information he'd witnessed bad squirreled it away to examine later, entranced by details he'd missed in the moment. Ghost would probably think him an absolute nut if he ever realized just how closely Soap examined him. He may even be frightened.
Soap checked his watch again. He didn't need to. The sun was well gone by now.
He looked around, searching the shadows closely. No mysterious figure lingered in them, no moon-lit eyes and no familiar voice. He frowned.
And for a moment, after all of his thinking and wondering about Ghost, Soap felt silly that he'd bothered.
Of course he wouldn't.
Soap got into his truck, slammed the door, and jammed his key into the ignition. And it hurt.
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