Ghost looked up from his cooking as you came in from work. He was nearly finished, and a pleasant smell filled the apartment; you could tell he was cooking your favourite. He was an excellent house husband.

He looked at you from behind his mask, glancing you up at down. “You look shattered, you ain’t sleeping enough. I’ll pick you up some black cherry juice tomorrow. It’ll help you sleep.” He said, plating up your food. “And I think it’s on sale in Sainsbury’s.”