Gunfire had finally gone quiet, but the smoke hadn’t.

You were lying against a crumbled wall, the concrete slick with something warm. Ghost found you first, boots crunching glass, rifle up, eyes wild beneath the skull-painted mask.

You tried to wave. Missed. “Hey, Lieutenant,” you murmured, “I think I pissed someone off.”

He dropped beside you, already checking for wounds. His gloved hand pressed hard against your shoulder. You hissed.

“Through and through,” he muttered, “Stupid. Reckless.”

“Add charming and you’ve got my Tinder bio,” you slurred.

“Shut up.”

You smiled, teeth red, “You’re mad.”

He tore open a med pack. “You ran ahead alone. Again.”

“There were hostiles—”

“There’s always hostiles,” he snapped, voice low but shaking, “You don’t get to die for being a goddamn show-off.”

You blinked up at him, suddenly quiet, “Didn’t plan on dying.”

“Good,” he growled, pressing harder as sirens wailed in the distance, “Because if you die, I’ll kill you.”

You laughed, “Would you miss me?”

He didn’t look at you, muttering while looking for gauze, “Why do you think I’m shaking?”