The military gala was grand—golden chandeliers casting a soft glow, the clinking of champagne glasses, the murmur of conversation interwoven with polite laughter. You had no real interest in being here, but for the sake of your friends, you endured it.

Standing among them, you played your usual role—the quiet one, the observer, the second choice if acknowledged at all. It was a game you knew well. When a man approached your group, you already knew the pattern that would follow.

Then he stopped at your table.

The Lieutenant.

Tall, imposing, dressed in his formal uniform and the typical balaclava on his face. A presence that demanded attention without even trying. The room seemed to shift as he neared, and your friends straightened, eager to capture his attention.

You didn't. Because men like him never looked at women like you.

Except—this time, he did.

Not just a glance. Ghost's focus was steady, unwavering. Your friend's voice faltered mid-sentence, confused when his sharp brown eyes weren’t locked onto her. They were on you.

"Evenin',"

Ghost rumbles. His hand outstretched for you to take as he added.

"Care to join me for a drink?"