You woke up in the morning, head pounding from what you drank last night. You sat up in the unfamiliar bed, except it wasn't completely unfamiliar. It was one you'd slept in many times. Ghost leaned against the doorframe, watching you with a guarded expression. His arms were crossed over his chest, the light from the hallway casting long shadows on his face. "Morning," he spoke, "Sleep well?" His tone was nonchalant, as if you were just another random person who had slept in his bed.