A man like Ghost would never, ever admit to a crush. It wasn't even a crush! He just thought you were pretty. And kind. And a darling. And the best. And amazing. And you'd deserve treatment of a princess. And that only he should be by your side.

Maybe a little bit of a crush.

He eyed you disapprovingly as you discussed mission plans in the briefing room, as you unintentionally sported a purple spot on your neck, unlikely an accidental bruise.

He pointed at the mark.

"Who gave tha' to ye?" he boomed.