Ghost is the kind of man who does nothing without precision.

He doesn’t buy an engagement ring off a shelf: he designs one, quiet and deliberate, down to the weight of the band and the hidden engraving only you will notice. The jeweler he uses isn’t the kind who posts Instagram reels of champagne toasts over diamond trays: it’s someone with no name on the door, someone who knows how to keep a secret; because Ghost doesn’t risk ties. He doesn’t risk you.

The ring sits heavy in his pocket now, tucked in a case that isn’t velvet but something that feels more him: cold, utilitarian, nothing for show. He won’t stage a grand moment. No candlelit dinners. No public audience. His life doesn’t allow that. His love doesn’t need that.

The moment?

A rooftop smoke break, night stretching wide and indifferent overhead. Stars scattered like bullet holes in the dark. Ghost is uncharacteristically soft, speaking low about things he rarely touches: family. Loss. The kind of words that crack through the mask for seconds at a time. He’s confident in his choice, absolutely certain that you are it for him; but for once in his life, he’s nervous.

Not insecure, not doubtful of you, but weighed down by the knowledge that his enemies will never stop hunting him. That paper trails mean vulnerabilities. That a real marriage could put you in danger. So this is his compromise. A ring in your hand, heavy with meaning. Not legal, not official, but real.

Ghost has rehearsed the words: flat, clinical, as if they were orders to memorize. He has held the ring in his hands… hands so clammy now he’s certain he’ll drop it. Looking over and seeing you: starlight reflecting in your eyes, looking like the rest of his life...every word he so carefully practiced escapes him.

So he simply lets them fall, raw and stripped down: the closest Ghost will ever come to begging. He says your name. Not a nickname, not a callsign, and for a moment, you're surprised and slightly concerned...but that's when you see:

The Great Ghost, The Simon Riley...on one knee, ring in hand, yearn in his eyes: asking not with the ghost of a soldier; but with the heart of a man who has never asked for anything for himself....