"I didn't know you speak Spanish, MacTavish.", Ghost said as nobody was around and the shadows fell far enough to swallow the both of you kneeling in front of one of the graves.
With a smile, you lit one of your candles.
It amused you to hear that even when he tried to talk silently, his voice was still too powerful to cover up the raspy vibration of it.
He had a manly voice, smooth and a bit surly. But at the same time it was enough to make clear that the owner of it was a man not to be fucked with.
"You don't know a lot about me, Lieutenant.", you said and followed the movements of a local who performed a Mexican ritual for another grave. "If you're curious, I also speak German, French, Japanese, a bit of Mandarine. Some Arabic as well, but it's lacking. And my Russian is almost as good as my English."
He hummed.
"Many options."
"Not enough but it gets the job done."
"Is that why they call you 100?"
Your eyes wandered across the graveyard, from face to face, in an attempt to spot the target.
"It's part of the reason.", you got back up, a lit candle in your hand and walked down the row of graves to light all of the candles that the wind had blow out.
Wordlessly, he followed you while his eyes also checked for something that could have been of help to make this mission a success.
The smell of flowers was in the air while it mixed with smoke and burned wood.
Some of the people lit scented wood that spread the smell of cinnamon.
As you reached the last grave of the row, you kneeled back down to place the candle on top.
Now, you had an eye on everyone who came through the church.
Ghost settled next to you.
"You lost your gun.", he pulled out his pistol that he had been hiding in the leg of his loose fitting jeans and offered it to you.
You eyed it for a moment.
"If I wouldn't have given up my gun, they would have searched you all the way and we both would sit here with empty hands now.", you pushed his hand back, declining the offer. "I've got my knife."
"A knife won't save you from a bullet in your chest, Lieutenant."
You smirked.
"Call me 100.", you said, generously. "To make this mission a success, we should refrain from using a firearms that make sounds anyways. Besides, you should keep it."
"You're physically weaker than me, it would be stupid to leave you unarmed."
You nodded.
"You're right, I'm not your size.", you pulled the knife out of your boot to let it dance in the air. "Which is my advantage. I can move in silence. They won't see me. You though? You'll be easy to spot."
His eyes changed.
With every moment you spent with him, it got easier to see the signs that he let slip through the cracks of his mask.
Emotions weren't a thing since his voice sounded grumpy and harsh most of the time and everything on his face was covered by the mask.
Everything except the eyes.
You couldn't read them well, but it started to make sense.
The way those brown orbs looked at you now, kissed by golden candlelight, gave away that he wasn't quite thrilled about what you said about him.
He was a skilled man, a legend even.
People feared him in broad daylight but even more so in the dark.
Your argumentation would have made sense if it was just any man.
But Ghost wasn't just any man and therefore took it as a slight offence that you believed he could be heard or seen in the dark.
A small chuckle made you lower your head to hide the expression on your face from him as you patted his shoulder.
"Don't be offended, aye?", you grinned, almost unable to hide the amusement in your voice. "Keep your gun and let's leave it at that."
That being said, you turned your attention back to the entrance of the graveyard.
You didn't know exactly how the new second in command of El Sin Nombre looked like. There was little intel on his line of work before jointing the cartel and even less pictures of his face.
The only thing that Ghost had of him was a poor quality picture taken from afar.
It wasn't much, but as somebody with as much experience as you, you knew that you had to make it work one way or another.
The colour of his hair didn't give away a lot, since most Mexicans had dark brown or black hair, just like it could be seen in the picture of Pablo.
But you had noticed one minor detail that could be worth a lot.
"Keep an eye out for a man wearing a ridiculously looking Hawaiian shirt.", you whispered and patted Ghost on the back to signalise that you were about to separate from him. "Bright colour. Probably with dolphins on it."
He hummed.
"How do you know he will wear it?", he asked.
"Just a feeling. And if he doesn't wear a shirt like that he'll probably wear a ring on every finger."
"The picture was taken weeks ago."
"People don't change their choice of accessories nor clothing that often.", you got up to lean against the side of a small shrine in which a stone statue of the Virgin Mary prayed. "Teenagers do, to find their style and sense of identity. But he's too old for that."
"How are you so sure?", his eyes moved to look you up and down.
You still didn't know why he did it so often.
Maybe he still didn't trust you enough or he tried to gather more info on you before forming his own opinion.
No matter what it was, his gazes made you grow goosebumps. The good kind.
You turned your head and smirked.
"Simple psychology.", you said. "People define themselves through clothing. If he wears a shirt like that in a picture, chances are high he dresses like this on the daily."
His eyes let go of you.
"Skilled in mind games as well.", he noted.
"They don't call me 100 for no reason."