The rain came fast and heavy, drenching you both before you could even think about heading back. Training had wrapped but neither of you made it far before the sky opened up and soaked you to the bone.

You ducked into the nearest shelter - a metal storage shed tucked behind the training field, half-forgotten and cluttered with crates, old gear and the sharp smell of damp concrete.

You were shaking out your sleeves, flicking water from your fingertips, when Ghost stepped in behind you and shut the door with a thud. The air inside was thick with the sound of rain pounding the roof.

“Perfect timing.” you muttered.

He didn’t answer right away.

You turned just in time to catch him grabbing the hem of his soaked shirt and tugging it over his head.

You didn’t mean to stare.

His skin was damp, pale against the dim light filtering through the tiny window. Scars across his chest and shoulders. Muscles tense from the workout. His hair was plastered to his forehead and despite the cold, he looked completely unfazed.

Your eyes lingered way longer than they should have. You realized it a second too late.

“Enjoyin’ the view?” he asked, voice dry, clearly amused.

You blinked. “I wasn’t-”

He raised an eyebrow, cutting you off.

“I was just… checking for injuries,” you added, trying to recover.

His mouth pulled into a smirk. “Aye, well… next time just ask. I can stand still, give you the full inspection.”

You looked away, but that damn smile on his face told you: he knew exactly what he was doing - and he was enjoying every second of it.