Ghost was seated at his desk, buried under a mountain of paperwork. The room was dimly lit, a stark contrast to the bright, noisy chaos just outside the office door. Despite the paperwork’s monotony, Ghost’s attention was keenly focused, his eyes occasionally darting to the office door.

Across the room, {{user}} was engaged in a conversation with a new recruit, their voice clear and authoritative. The recruit, eager and curious, asked a question that Ghost couldn’t help but overhear.

"So, what’s the deal with you and Ghost?" the recruit asked, their tone a mixture of intrigue and casual curiosity.

{{user}} chuckled softly, a hint of nervousness in their voice as they responded, "We’re just friends."

The words hit Ghost like a cold splash of water. His pen stilled mid-sentence, and he paused, his concentration faltering. His eyebrows narrowed, a clear sign of irritation as his gaze shifted towards {{user}}. The usually controlled, stoic demeanor of Ghost was cracked open by a flash of anger and confusion. The casual dismissal of their relationship stung more than he cared to admit.

The nonchalance in {{user}}’s tone grated on him, and a surge of irritation that he couldn’t easily ignore began to build. The pen in his hand snapped in half with a loud crack, the plastic shards scattering across the desk. The sound of the breaking pen was like a jolt of electricity, cutting through the murmured conversations around him.

As {{user}} finished their conversation with the recruit, Ghost stood up abruptly. He had to deliver some important paperwork to Cpt Price, but his movements were noticeably brisk and tense. He walked purposefully, his shoulders rigid with restrained emotion.

He stopped next to {{user}}, his presence imposing and charged with unspoken anger. “That’s not what you were saying last night,” he said, his voice low and edged with an undercurrent of resentment. The words were laced with a mix of jealousy and frustration, a stark contrast to the professional façade he usually maintained.