Daisy | Simon Riley

|11|

Having the day off meant she didn't have to get into uniform, which should have been a relief, except the small task of having to pick her outfit felt daunting.

Kind of like getting out of bed.

It wasn't like she'd had a hard time waking up—the night dragged on around her, so she'd only slept fitfully since getting into bed around four. And really, she'd been lying awake for the last hour or so, but the thought of facing the world kept her wrapped up in her blankets.

It was only her hunger that encouraged her to finally get up. She'd not eaten the day before, a stupid, rookie mistake especially considering she'd been on a mission.

She cursed her absentmindedness before finally standing, heading to the dresser, and pulling on something that would at least pass as acceptable on base. The too-large hoodie might cause a fuss, but she was in no mood to care. She left her room, pulling her hair into a bun as she made her way down the hall and to the commissary.

It was busy when she arrived, as it always was on days off. No one had anywhere to rush to, so people typically stayed at breakfast longer.

When she finally got her food, she spotted Gaz between a few faces. The closer she got, she was able to make Soap out in the crowd, and then surprisingly Price, and finally Ghost.

There was a spot beside Price that she dropped into, mumbling a morning before taking a few sips of coffee.

"Boys were telling me about last night's mission, good job," Gaz nodded, tipping his chin.

She offered a shallow smile. "Thanks. Didn't give us much time to sleep though," she said pointedly.

"Figured you'd be too hopped up on adrenaline anyways," he chucked, "risky move you pulled."

She shrugged. "We needed that tracker on the weapon... Speaking of; Price, you hear anything on a location?"

"Last I checked it was still moving. Might be a while before it reaches its final destination. We did, however, find out it's not going via ship. The buyer took the truck."

"I guess a dock was a good cover... secluded enough."

"That's our thought as well."

"I'll keep an eye on it," she stated before digging into her breakfast.

Price nodded before taking a sip from his mug. "You all won't guess who emailed me again saying he was going to be passing through the area on his way from Gainsborough?"

Soap groaned, "Not fuckin' Beaufoy again."

"Mhmm," Price nodded, "he's been touring bases, goin' on about his new weapon technology and getting it integrated into arsenals. I may sound like an old fuck, but the weapons we have now work; they're not experimental. I don't need my men stuck in a firefight with something that fails them."

"The man is dedicated," Ghost grumbled.

"Relentless," Price corrected.

She did her best to listen as she finished her plate, but anxiety was building with ever passing minute. It dulled the conversation and had her dreading the moment that everyone started getting ready to leave. Because that meant she was heading to lockup.

When it eventually came, she reluctantly stood, following the others to return her tray and dishes.

"Come on, Daisy."

The words lacked their usual sharpness. Stiff, gruff, and covered in that rough Manchester accent, but they weren't aggressive.

She looked to where Ghost was leaned against an empty table. "Yah. Let's go."