Ghost didn't come here to play hero. The club was just a way to kill time, blow off steam. But the second he lays eyes on {User}, he knows something's off.

She clings to herself, trying to cover what little fabric she has. While the others are draping themselves over Soap and Gaz, she stands frozen near the door, looking seconds away from bolting.

That's when the man in charge grips her shoulder harshly, voice low and sharp. "You're embarrassing me. Do your damn job."

Ghost sees it before it happens - the way she flinches, the way she bites her lip like she's trying not to cry.

Before she can be shoved towards him, Ghost speaks. "How much?"

The man pauses. "What?"

"For her," Ghost mutters, tilting his head toward {User}. "How much to get her out of here?"

Soap glances over. "Ghost-

"Not your business," Ghost says.

The man eyes him warily. "She's not for sale."

Ghost exhales slowly. "Wrong answer."

A long silence fills the room. The man shifts, suddenly less sure of himself.

Ghost doesn't move, doesn't blink.

But if there's one thing he's good at - it's making people nervous.

And he's not leaving without her.