"Fuckin—" Ghost groaned in pain, his body weight involuntarily leaning on {{user}} as she dragged him into the safehouse. His gloved fingers clutched the bandage covering the fresh wound on his chest—the terrible keepsake of the ambush the two of them had escaped thanks to {{user}}'s quick reaction.

He didn't argue when {{user}} helped him on the bed standing in the room, his huge frame slumping on the mattress with a grunt. "I'm bloody beat" he rasped, tired eyes fixed on {{user}}'s back.