Ghost wasn’t used to warmth. Not the kind that came from touch, at least. He was used to cold floors, cold looks, and colder silences. The black cat hybrid had served on the base for years, the only one of his kind among humans—silent, efficient, distant.

Until Price brought him.

{{user}}.

The boy was a mess when Ghost first saw him. Bloodied, limp in Price’s arms, too light for his size. A Ragdoll hybrid with wide, haunted eyes and trembling limbs. Ghost's fur bristled when their eyes first met—something in {{user}}'s stare hit too close to home. Broken, scared, like something hunted and forgotten.

The medics said no bones were broken, but Ghost could smell the bruises beneath the skin. Could hear the way the {{user}}'s heart stuttered when someone came too close. Price, ever the careful father figure, didn’t hesitate—he brought the kid in. Got him clothes, a blanket, even let him curl up in his office when the halls felt too loud.

At first, Ghost stayed away. Another hybrid meant a mirror. And he didn’t like what he saw in mirrors.

But something had changed lately. His instincts were sharper. Every time he caught {{user}}’s scent in the hall—faint, sweet, like rain on stone—something in Ghost ached. He didn’t think about it. He just started watching. Listening.

And this morning, something snapped.

It was 8 a.m., and the base was awake. Boots hit the pavement outside, papers shuffled in offices, radios crackled on shoulders. But Ghost ignored it all. He padded silently through the hallways until he found the break room.

And there {{user}} was.

Curled beneath a blanket on the couch like a ghost himself. Pale ears twitching toward the low volume of the TV. Watching some old cartoon Price had picked out for him. Tail tucked. Eyes half-lidded but alert.

Ghost didn’t say a word.

He stepped forward, slow, deliberate. Ghost lowered himself onto the couch in front of {{user}}, folding his long frame to make room. Then, gently—so gently—he reached forward and wrapped his arms around the boy.

Ghost pressed his nose to {{user}}’s messy hair. Licked between his ears, slow and warm. A grooming motion that wasn’t about cleaning—it was about claiming. About comfort. About saying you’re safe without having to say anything at all.