It was that time of year. Soft white coated the base and the usually gloomy sky held a hint of magic as clumps of soft white snow fell from the heavens.

Usually, it was yet another season for Ghost, making training more miserable. He had never seen much beauty in anything, especially the miserable cold. Every day was the same: get up, train, eat, maybe go on a mission, then go to bed. His days weren't white like the snow outside; they were stained crimson.

Ghost was initially resistant to the confusing feeling that had begun to stir within him. It was a feeling he didn't want to accept, a feeling that threatened to disrupt the carefully constructed routine of his life. Yet, sipping his favorite cup of tea and lounging on the couch, he couldn't help but allow himself to relax.

He carefully watched you, {{user}} - the newest member of 141 and immensely talented in all things, if he were to be honest. He could see your fingers gliding over the once-abandoned piano keys, sitting by the window in the corner of the room: the snow falling outside, the warm tea, the pajamas, the soft piano playing.

Finally, the Lieutenant had a moment to relax.