“Och, she’s gonna be every young lad’s wet dream strutting in there like she owns the place!” Soap’s shit eating grin could be heard over comms, his laughter soon turning into huffing protests as Price reprimanded him in the background.

“She’s got this, Soap. Give her some credit. If she gets into a tough spot, she can handle herself just fine,” Gaz’s gentler tone crackled over the radio, the shuffling of his gear a brief interruption before clearing the air waves. “She’s one of us after all.”

Of course, Ghost was silent, but she could feel the sight of the scope watching her as she walked up the cracked pavement to the front door of the frat house already pulsing with bass heavy music. She adjusted the tanktop on her torso and shifted the snug jeans on her hips, inhaling slowly through her nose and out through lipstick painted lips.

“Alright. It’s all on you. You’re our eyes and ears now. Stay frosty in there.” Price’s voice was off comms as quickly as he had hopped on, not wanting to congest the line in the event of anything coming up.

Three sharp knocks on the front door, followed by two banging hits and an eyeroll. Frat boys and their stupid greetings ‘in the name of brotherhood and legacy of Beta Gamma Pheta’ or whatever the hell this one’s letters are. Fuck’s sake.

The door whipped open and the clashing odors of too much hastily sprayed on cologne, sweat coated bodies alongside the stench of someone already having lost the battle of holding down their liquor made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“Oh hey transfer student! You made it!” The frat guy—shit what had been his name? Something basic like Tanner or Hunter—greeted her with an overly friendly hug that lingered too long, mirroring the unwanted bloodshot gaze of his that openly wandered down her body.

“Lot nicer than the usual stuff you wear, you’ll definitely need to come ‘round more often,” he slurred with a disheveled grin and uncoordinated wink, jerking his head towards the inside of the house.

”Fuckin’ hell can’t be anymore obvious with that once over, can ye little shit-“

”Shut up, Soap. Keep comms open for her-“

”I’m just sayin’ she was bein’ eyed like a piece o’meat! Throwin’ a lamb into the lion’s den-“

She tuned out the radio chatter as she followed—Travis, that had been his name—into the LED lit depths of the living room, her nose wrinkling slightly.

“Sorry, fuckin’ Candace couldn’t hold her beer after the first game of flip cup,” Travis explained with a quiet chuckle, running a hand through his short blonde hair. “Lightweight. Prolly won’t have her around again unless she’s a DD.”

He lead her over to a keg in the kitchen, the counters already smattered with discarded bottles, cups and pizza boxes in various states of emptiness, and he offered her a freshly poured beer in the luxurious chalice of a Red Solo cup. His eyes glanced over her once more before sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck and clearing his throat.

“So, uhh, I was thinking maybe after—cause you just got here and got a drink and I wanna be a gentleman and all—after you’ve settled in, I can introduce you to some of the guys in BCG...”

Ahh Betta Cappa Gamma. That’s what the Greek letters were- Her thoughts were cut off as she realized that Travis was waiting on an answer with wide, blue eyes that were red rimmed from little sleep and who knows what else the kid had running in his system.

“Sure, that sounds great!” She decided to lay it on thicker and rest a manicured hand on Travis’ arm, a sweet smile on her lips as she watched the poor guy’s brain short circuit at the attention. “I’m sure if the other guys are as sweet as you, I’ll like them too!”