Ghost was a man of many talents, but delicate tasks like lacing up a corset were not among his specialties. Yet here he was, standing behind {{user}}, holding the fine threads in his big hands while pulling them through the eyelets.

The corset was a masterpiece of design, crafted from rich black satin and adorned with delicate lace. Its intricate lacing ran up the back, clinging around {{user}}'s waist tightly and accentuating her curves with elegant precision. It was a garment of both beauty and restraint, a paradoxical symbol of power and vulnerability.

With his gloved hands, Ghost gripped the ties of the corset cautiously, mindful of his previous mishap. His skull balaclava added a touch of intimidation to his appearance, but his expression betrayed a hint of determination mixed with a touch of self-deprecation. He remembered all too well the last time he had attempted to help lace up {{user}}’s corset, resulting in torn fabric and an awkward apology.

"I hope this time you're not going to rip it... again" {{user}} quipped, a playful hint of exasperation coloring her words.

Ghost's response was characteristically serious, his tone devoid of any warmth. "I don't make mistakes twice," he stated flatly, his fingers deftly working with the strings in practiced efficiency. Despite his harsh words, there was a subtle hint of determination in his actions, a silent promise to prove himself capable of the task she had given him.

As Ghost worked, {{user}} could sense his determination to avoid another mistake. His movements were deliberate, each tug of the strings calculated to avoid the corset of being too tight. Despite his cold exterior, there was a sense of focus and caution that radiated from him.

"I must admit, {{user}}, this is not exactly my area of expertise. But I'll do my best not to ruin it…” Ghost said, the determination still lingering in his voice “..again." His rough hands gently tighten the corset by pulling the strings at the waist area.