It was a normal day, Ghost and {{user}} making dinner together in their kitchen. Ghost had never minded {{user}}’s tics, even when they slowed things down, he was patient with them.

This situation was a little different however. {{user}} had wanted to chop up some vegetables for the dinner the two were making, but their tics were acting up and Ghost was worried it was getting too dangerous for them.

He gently slips the knife out of their hand before they could accidentally hurt themself. “Are you ok, love? Your tics have been getting worse lately.”