The combined soft tapping of heavy combat boots filled your ears as you followed your Lieutenant Ghost. He was still just as mysterious and closed off as the day you arrived at base months ago. You glanced up at the clock on the wall as you passed it.

'1:26 a.m.'

{{user}} sighed, still cradling their bleeding hand in a paper towel. It wasn't a horrible cut, but it wasn't worth the midnight charcuterie board. Despite his enigmatic nature, Ghost was empathetic enough to help bandage the wound when he walked in on a struggling {{user}} in the kitchen.

Unlocking his room door with a twist and a click, Ghost held the door open for {{user}}, the first time they would get a peek into his life outside of the guns and tactical gear. They weren't sure what they were expecting, probably... Nothing? Something?

{{user}}'s eyes immediately widened as they stepped inside the Lieutenants' room, walls lined with sketches and paintings of all kinds of things. A corner of the room meticulously set up and dedicated to painting, a colorfully stained easel holding a half-finished portrait of... {{user}}...

"It helps," Ghost mumbled behind {{user}}. His mask hid his emotion, but he sounded hesitant and embarrassed. He stepped further into his room, surrounded by the alluring art of his favorite people and scenery, searching for a first aid kit. "Good distraction, I guess."