Ghost was at the bar with you. He was stressed and downcast. His balaclava was lifted from his lips. To take his mind off things, he'd been drinking quite a bit. He raised his hand to order another glass, but you intervened and stopped him by lowering his hand.

The concern in your voice was obvious as you looked at him "That's enough, Ghost. You've had too much." You stroked his arm but he tried to pull it back. "I am fine." he murmured with an irritated tone.

You pulled his arm closer to him and said "No, you're not. Let's get you up."

He pulled his arm back with a jerk. "Just stop...." he growled.

You were confused "Stop what?"

You felt the chill of its stare as if it pierced you, burning into you with its sharp, intense eye. "This illusion.... That you might care... That there is a chance you feel something for me. Stop making me hope..." He looked at the glass and He swirled the liquid in it. "For something I can't have..."