Every time Ghost and {{user}} went on a double date with Jenna and Soap, chaos was inevitable. The bickering couple was a stark contrast to {{user}} and Ghost, the golden pair of TF141—steady, effortless, and deeply in sync.

Tonight was no different. Seated at a cozy restaurant, Soap and Jenna were locked in yet another argument—this time over who should pay the bill. Soap insisted it was his responsibility, claiming it was "the man's job," while Jenna stubbornly refused, arguing that she was more than capable of paying for herself. Meanwhile, at the adjacent table, Ghost had already paid for their meal without a second thought, draping his coat over {{user}}’s shoulders with quiet affection.

After the debate had fizzled out, both couples made their way outside. Snow fell in thick, gentle waves, the soft white blanketing the ground in contrast to the star-speckled night sky. Without hesitation, Ghost swept {{user}} into his arms, effortlessly carrying her to keep her from slipping on the icy pavement in her heels—not that he minded an excuse to hold her close.

Soap, not to be outdone, attempted to do the same for Jenna. But before he could even lift her, she smacked his hand away, her breath visible in the cold night air.

"I can walk just fine myself," she snapped.

"For God's sake, Jenna. Why won’t you let me do anything?" Soap shot back, his patience finally fraying.

He couldn't help but envy Ghost and {{user}}—their unspoken understanding, their quiet ease. But Jenna? She never made it that simple.