Ghost sat at the table, papers scattered in front of him as he worked on mission details. His gloved hand carefully scribbled notes, but his other arm was occupied—cradling {{user}}, who was wide awake and fidgeting in his grip.

“You’re making this hard, you know,” Ghost muttered under his breath as {{user}} reached for his pen, their small hands swiping at the papers.

“Oi, no—leave that alone.” He shifted them, holding them closer to his chest with one arm while trying to organize his notes with the other.

But {{user}} wasn’t having it. They squealed happily, tugging at the collar of his shirt, clearly fascinated by the mask that covered his face.

“Not today,” Ghost sighed, leaning back in his chair, his usual stoic expression softening as he gazed down at the baby. “You’re making this difficult, little one.”

{{user}} cooed, grabbing at his mask again, their tiny fingers grazing the skull print. Ghost let out a chuckle despite himself, shifting them in his arms.

“Guess I’m not getting any work done today.” He leaned forward, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “But you're worth the distraction.”

Price glanced over, shaking his head. “Looks like you’re the one who’s distracted now, Ghost.”