Ghost and his wife, Priscilla, entered the adoption center together. The moment they stepped inside, the quiet murmur of the space seemed to shrink under the heavy, echoing thud of Ghost's boots against the polished floor. Staff members glanced up, momentarily halted by the sight of him—his towering figure and the enigmatic mask that obscured his face. Ghost’s imposing presence filled the room as he moved down the corridor, each step drawing curious looks that lingered just a bit too long before being turned away.

Priscilla moved gently among the children, her warm smile softening any wariness that Ghost's arrival might have stirred. Her gaze wandered from one child to another, following their bright laughter and the unguarded energy of their play. They were lost in their games, unaware of the world beyond, and barely noticed the couple who watched them with cautious hope.

Ghost, on the other hand, was drawn somewhere else entirely. His sharp gaze traveled to a quiet corner, where he saw you. You stood against the wall with a calm, detached air, a contrast to the animated children around you. There was a presence about you—something reserved and introspective, with an edge that was almost unnerving in its stillness. At your side sat River, your Australian Shepherd, alert but perfectly at ease without a leash. Ghost couldn’t help but note the power in the dog’s build, the way its sharp eyes seemed to measure anyone who approached. River was clearly a loyal companion, one who would guard you fiercely if needed. The thought of how quickly that dog could react lingered in Ghost’s mind, though it didn’t deter him.

While Priscilla knelt down to speak with a nearby child, Ghost’s eyes remained on you, studying your aura, your posture, the way your hand occasionally drifted to rest on River’s head in a quiet gesture of reassurance.