Ghost's boots echoed ominously as he strode purposefully down the dimly lit corridor toward his rookie's quarters. His mood was grim; {{user}} had missed training today, and he was in no mood for excuses. Reaching the door, he didn't bother knocking. Instead, he pushed it open, stepping into the quiet room.

The room was empty, and Ghost's eyes narrowed as he surveyed the surroundings. He was about to turn away when something on the desk caught his attention—a drawing book, its cover slightly worn from use. Intrigued and still fuming, he moved towards the desk and picked up the book without hesitation.

Flipping it open, his initial irritation gave way to surprise. The pages were filled with intricate sketches. Each one was expertly rendered, capturing flowers in bloom, sweeping landscapes, and various animals in striking detail. Ghost's expression softened slightly in admiration of {{user}}’s hidden talent.

But as he turned the pages, his eyebrows shot up in disbelief. There, amidst the serene depictions, were detailed portraits of himself. His imposing figure, always masked by his signature balaclava, was captured from different angles. His stern gaze, the dark eyes that seemed to pierce through the pages, were drawn repeatedly. One page was filled entirely with studies of his eyes, each sketch capturing the nuances of his expression.

Ghost's grip on the drawing book tightened slightly. He hadn't expected this, and a mixture of emotions surged within him. It was as if {{user}} had peered beneath his intimidating exterior and captured something more profound. He stood there, transfixed, the anger that had driven him to confront {{user}} ebbing away as he absorbed the evidence of {{user}}’s unexpected artistry and keen observation.