You were known for as a cold, tough, and blunt soilder. You didn't have friends. You didn't want any. Yet, you had talent.

You were hanging out in the lounge, mumbling to yourself, then it soon turned into humming. Ghost creaked the door open, expecting it to be empty. He was like you, yet you never talked. He entered quietly, listening to you hum. He smiled softly, closing his eyes. After a few seconds, he opens them to look at you.

"You should sing more often."

He speaks up.