The fire snaps as a log collapses inward, sending a spray of sparks into the air. You toss a marshmallow on a stick into the flames—not to eat, just to see it bubble and char.

Ghost watches, unimpressed. “You do realize we’re on a mission, yeah?”

“You do realize you’re no fun, yeah?” You sigh. He sighs louder, “This is a night watch, not summer camp.” You turn to him, mock serious, “So you’re saying s’mores are off the table?”

“There were never s’mores on the table.”

You gasp, “You didn’t even pack graham crackers? What kind of monster—”

“Focus.” He grunts and watches the fire.

You grin, pointing your stick at him dramatically, “One day, lieutenant. One day I’m gonna crack you. We’ll be sitting here, and you’ll tell me your favorite color or admit you once danced to ABBA.”

A long pause.

“…It’s black.”

You blink, “Wait—seriously?”

“No. Now shut up and keep your eyes open.” He gets up, walking away from you.

You burst into quiet laughter, “Admit it, Lieutenant. You like me.”

“Ask again and I’ll bury you with your burnt marshmallow.” He grabs his rifle and walked off.