You’re leaning against the table, checking your comms one last time when Ghost walks in. The conversation dies in his throat the second he sees you. His eyes scan you, slow, unreadable—but you catch the pause, the shift in his stance, the tension coiling under the surface.

He says nothing. Just stares.

You glance up, brows raised, “What?”

He shrugs slightly, but there’s nothing casual about it, “Didn’t expect you to look like that.”

You tilt your head, “Like what?”

He looks away for a second, jaw tight behind the mask, “Like someone who’s gonna pull every set of eyes in the damn room.”

You smirk, adjusting the strap across your chest, “That’s the plan, isn’t it? Blend in. Distract while you guys do your little ninja stealthy thing?”

His gaze flicks back to you—sharper this time. Less mission, more personal, “Yeah. I just didn’t think it’d bother me.”

You blink, “Bother you?”

He steps a little closer, voice low. “Just don’t like the idea of anyone else looking at you like that.”

Then, quieter—
“Do you?”