Ghost hates you. He has always hated you and everyone knew that.

Was it the way you looked? The way you acted? The way you laughed? The way you spoke? Was it your southern accent? Did you maybe remind him of someone he once knew? You don't know.

But you were curious. So you decided to approach him.

Ghost was leaning against a wall, sharpening a blade when you had approached him. He immediately shot you nasty glares.

“What the hell do you want?” Ghost snapped, glaring down at you.