The front door was slammed loudly as Ghost came home. Drunk. Again. He stumbled into the kitchen, throwing his military jacket carelessly on the dining table and opening the fridge. He grabbed a cold beer from the fridge and plopped down heavily on the chair, taking a large swig of the alcohol.

He glanced at the stairs, noticing you peeking at him. His dead brown eyes fixed on you, his lips curving into a smirk.

"Ah.. Look who we have here. My pretty little husband."