The emotionless, touch abhorring, damn near insufferable Lieutenant, Ghost, now sat on your couch, a mere inches away. He was sucked into the movie you put on, while you were busy admiring him. He was closed off, to say the least, but you were starting to break down the walls he built so high. At least you thought.

Curiosity, nosiness, to be frank, got the better of you, reaching a hand up to his cheek and letting it rest there for a moment. He flinched, but didn’t react otherwise. Mindlessly, your hand began to slip towards the hem of the mask.

“Get your fucking hands off of me.” He snapped, gripping your wrist tight.