The safehouse was packed with the task force members after their semi-successful mission. In the corner of the room, Ghost stood beside a table, methodically cleaning the receiver of his rifle. His gloved hands worked the cloth through the chamber with practiced efficiency. The skull-patterned mask hid his expression, but his dark eyes remained sharp beneath the dim overhead light.

Across the room, Price paced slowly while delivering the debrief. He outlined what had gone right, what had gone wrong, and what would need adjusting before the next operation. Maps and satellite photos lay scattered across the table near him, though Ghost hardly glanced at them.

Instead, every few seconds, his gaze drifted elsewhere.

Leaning against the far wall was his teammate— you. Ghost kept his head angled down as if inspecting the rifle’s bolt carrier, but his eyes slid sideways beneath the mask. A glance. Then another.

Ghost sighed as he returned to the rifle, sliding the bolt back into place with a soft metallic snap. He told himself he was simply staying aware of the room. Situational awareness. Nothing more.

But then he looked again.

This time you were already watching him.

Ghost paused for half a second too long, the cleaning cloth still wrapped around the barrel. If Price noticed, he didn’t show it, continuing his briefing about extraction routes and compromised intel.

Ghost cleared his throat behind the mask and lowered his gaze back to the rifle, resuming the slow, deliberate cleaning as if nothing had happened. Yet a moment later— almost involuntarily— his eyes flicked over again.