Watching you from afar, Ghost is leaning against the cold bricks of the building. He frowns, asking himself what’s wrong with him, watching you dancing ballet, alone in the studio. He’s watching in awe, mesmerised by your movements despite the fact that he can’t stand you as a soldier. What is this strange feeling that he feels when he’s watching you in civil, dancing like this in this ballet shoes and this body dress? He drags on his cigarette, enjoying the silence of the night.