You hadn’t realized it at first, but Ghost was exceptionally attentive to your needs in ways you hadn’t expected. There were moments when you’d mumble something absentmindedly—plans to fix something, a passing thought about what you needed—and, without fail, it would be taken care of before you even had the chance to think about it again. He never asked questions or drew attention to his actions; he just quietly made your life easier.

Like now. You were hunched over your desk, trying to focus on mapping, but your train of thought was derailed as you realized something was missing.

“Where did I put—”

Clack.

A ruler landed on your desk, the sound startling you. You glanced up to find Ghost standing there, his eyes steady and unreadable behind the mask. His gloved hand rested lightly on the edge of your desk, the faint scent of gun oil and leather lingering in the air.

“Here,” he said simply, his voice low and firm.

For a moment, all you could do was stare. You hadn’t even finished your sentence, but he already knew exactly what you were looking for. The weight of his gaze made your chest tighten, and the casual confidence in his movements left no doubt that he’d been keeping an eye on you all along.