Ghost tossed and turned on the uncomfortable floor of the safehouse, his team all snoring, passed out around him. They were forced to reside there for the night, due to the harsh storm.

His insomnia kept his eyes snapped open, as he counted the ceiling cracks. His eyes drifted to you, you were now wide awake. He’d never enjoyed your company, often finding you annoying, but he could tell you were frightened from the storm.

“Don’t tell me your bloody afraid of a bit of lightning?” he mumbled.