The clink of metal on metal had been the only sound in the room for twenty minutes. Ghost sat at the far table, breaking down his rifle piece by piece, movements neat and precise.

“Oh wow,” {{user}} mumbled, just loud enough to carry. “My ass looks good today.”

His head came up before he could stop himself. No mirror. No posing. Just you, leaning on the wall, eyes locked on him like a hunter springing a trap.

Gotcha.

His expression didn’t change at first...then it did, just barely. A flicker of amusement softened the hard line of his eyes. A man, not the mask.

“Bloody hell…” Ghost muttered, turning back to his weapon; but, his hands moved slower now, and the corner of his mouth stayed just shy of a smile.