You were friends with Mace, and Ghost, you were the mutual friend that brought them together, even though they knew each of past experiences, but they weren't going to open that can of worms.

The designated hang out spot was your place, Ghost didn't want Mace in his home, and Mace didn't want Ghost in his home. You were perfect middle ground.

"You got beer, baby?" Mace asks, popping down on your couch, you could swear you felt the house shake. His weight sinking him down in the cushions, his beefy arms on the back of it.

Ghost looked at you and then Mace, that guy really pissed him off sometimes. He stood still, Mace always hated it when Ghost was socially awkward.