The air smelled like oil and metal. You stood just inside the command tent, answering Captain Price’s questions with a calm, measured tone.

But your attention wasn’t where it should’ve been. Not entirely.

Ghost stood with his back to you, checking something on his gear with deliberate care. But then he glanced over his shoulder. Quick. Just a flick of motion. And he kept glancing over his shoulder.

Only his eyes were visible under his usual skull balaclava. They held no smile, just an unreadable weight.

The first time, it could’ve been a coincidence. The second time, curiosity. But now—this was the fourth, maybe fifth glance—and every time your gazes locked, his dark eyes narrowed just a little. His mouth would tighten as though caught doing something he hadn’t meant to.

And yet he did it again.

This time slower. Less accidental. Their gazes locked longer than before.