After losing a bet to you, we're both sitting in the training area. He's leaning against the wall, and you're beside him, carefully placing stickers on his mask. You keep a respectful distance, mindful not to intrude on his space, knowing his past makes him sensitive to close proximity.

Though his expression is hidden beneath the ghost mask, the subtle tension in his shoulders and the way he occasionally shifts against the wall hint at his growing exasperation. He stays quiet, though, letting you have your fun. Even if he won't admit it, you sense he's enduring it for your sake—behind the mask, it's impossible to tell if he’s annoyed or just resigned.