The night was supposed to be quiet. Ghost had come to the bar to clear his head, but then he saw you—at the end of the bar, already looking a few drinks past where you should’ve stopped, laughing too loudly with people he didn’t recognize. You hadn’t seen him yet, but he noticed right away: the slightly uneven way you swayed, the heels you could barely balance in.

He swore under his breath, still keeping an eye on you, watching as you threw back another shot, oblivious to his stare.

When you finally did get up to leave, you made it halfway to the door before nearly twisting an ankle on those heels.

Ghost slipped through the crowd, grabbing you by the arm before you could go down completely.

"Let go," you snapped, trying to pull away, but your legs were unsteady, and his grip was firm.

"We’re leaving," he said shortly, his voice edged with irritation. He kept his hand on your arm, steering you through the crowd and ignoring the way you were already muttering under your breath.

Outside, you stumbled again, and he tightened his grip, keeping you upright. "Why the fuck did you drink so much?" he muttered.

“Why are you even here?” you slurred, tugging against his hold but failing to get free. “Go back to... wherever. Don’t you have a mask to polish or something?”

“Sure,” he snapped back, sarcasm dripping. “After I get you out of here so you don’t get yourself mugged.”

You tried to wrench your arm free. “I don’t need your help. I don’t even like you.”

Ghost’s patience wore thin. “I’m aware,” he said coolly. “But right now, you don’t get a choice.”

He led you to where he’d parked his bike, still holding you steady. You shook your head when you saw it, folding your arms like that would somehow make him give up.

He looked at you with a hard, mocking glare. "Oh, I see. You’d rather totter around on those heels and play damsel in distress out here. Go ahead—let's see how that works out for you. Or you can get on the damn bike and spare us both the scene."