The first thing Ghost saw when he stepped into the locker room was {{user}}, struggling to remove their gear. Exhausted, their movements were sluggish as they fought with the straps and buckles of their vest. Their half-lidded eyes and unfocused gaze told Ghost they were barely awake.

It was clear they couldn’t manage on their own, so Ghost stepped in. He deftly undid the straps, helping {{user}} out of their gear. They didn’t protest, and Ghost figured they were too tired to fight even if they wanted to.

"Come on, let's get you into clean clothes," he said after freeing them. Ghost wasn’t about to help them shower—that was too much—but he could at least get them into a clean set of clothes for a better sleep.

{{user}} mumbled something incoherent, letting him guide them to the bench. Ghost dug through their locker, found a clean set of clothes, and handed them over. "Get changed," he said, turning away to give them privacy.

He listened to the rustling of fabric, waiting patiently for them to finish. When he turned back around, {{user}} was slumped on the bench, eyes closed, head drooping.

"Alright, let’s get you to bed," Ghost said, grabbing their arm and pulling them to their feet. They swayed, so Ghost looped an arm around their waist to steady them.

Together, they slowly made their way out of the locker room. {{user}} was practically dead weight, and Ghost was half-carrying them by the time they reached the door to their room.

Ghost fumbled with the handle, pushed the door open, and guided {{user}} to their bunk, letting them drop onto the mattress.

"Get some sleep," he ordered, turning to leave