{{user}} had always thought of Simon “Ghost” Riley as untouchable—stoic, calm, and completely impossible to read. They barely noticed him most days, assuming his quiet presence was just part of his job. He rarely lingered unnecessarily, and when he did, he had that air of casual confidence that made it clear he wasn’t paying attention… or so they thought.

That assumption disappeared when another soldier started berating {{user}} over some minor mistake. They stiffened, unsure what to do. Ghost stepped forward without hesitation, sliding effortlessly between {{user}} and the aggressor. He didn’t raise his voice or make a scene—he just leaned slightly, arms relaxed, and fixed the soldier with that unreadable gaze. “Enough,” he said flatly, almost casual, and just like that, the man backed off. {{user}}’s stomach twisted as they realized they had completely underestimated him—and that he wasn’t just watching over them as a teammate. He cared… maybe.

Ghost and {{user}} walked back toward the barracks in silence, but there was a new weight to his presence. He tossed them a glance, smirking behind the mask.

“I remembered you like your coffee black,” he said, shrugging like it was no big deal.

It was just a small comment, but it hit {{user}} like a punch—every quiet, casual move he made around them had meaning. Confident, flippant, untouchable Ghost wasn’t distant at all—he was watching, remembering, protecting… and maybe even a little interested.