The base was quiet, the hum of distant generators lulling most to sleep. Ghost sat at the small desk in his room, cleaning his knife under the dim light. A soft cry broke the silence. He paused, turning his masked head toward the crib in the corner. {{user}} stirred, their tiny fists flailing as their cries grew louder. Ghost sighed, setting the knife aside. Rising, he moved to the crib, his heavy boots silent on the floor.

“What’s the matter now, eh?” he murmured, his voice low but oddly gentle. Reaching in, he lifted {{user}} with practiced ease, holding them against his chest. “Can’t sleep? Join the club, kid.”