The base was colder than usual that morning. Frost clung to every surface, railings coated in white, rooftops glimmering silver, thin sheets of ice tracing delicate patterns across every window. Ghost had finished his early patrol and was heading back through the hallway, boots echoing softly against the floor. His breath fogged in front of him, even inside. That was when he saw her. {{user}} stood alone in the lounge, framed by the pale glow of a frosted window. Her hair was loose today, falling messily around her shoulders and her fingertips were gently brushing through the frost. She looked peaceful, almost ethereal, as she traced a simple line across the icy pane.

Ghost stopped in the doorway without thinking. She hadn’t noticed him yet. She was too focused on the window, on the cold glass beneath her fingertips. A faint smile curved her lips as she created a small swirl in the frost. Ghost cleared his throat softly. {{user}} turned, startled, then visibly softened when she recognised him. “Morning,” she said, her voice quiet in the cold air. Ghost stepped inside, boots crunching slightly against the thin layer of frost on the floor. “You’re up early.” {{user}} gave a half shrug. “Couldn’t sleep.” Ghost moved to stand beside her, looking out. Beyond the frosted glass, the yard was a blend of white and muted grey. Ghost watched her fingers move over the frosty window again. She drew a small arc, then another.

He felt his muscles relax without permission. “It’s cold in here,” he muttered. {{user}} huffed a soft laugh. “Everything’s cold today.” Ghost hesitated only a moment before turning on his heel. “Where are you going?” “Tea,” he grunted. “You’ll freeze standin’ here.” A minute later, he returned, two steaming mugs of tea held carefully in his gloved hands. He passed one to her silently. “Thanks.” He nodded and took a sip of his own, leaning his shoulder against the wall beside her. {{user}} turned back to the frosty window, breath fogging the glass slightly. When she lifted her fingers again, she paused. Without a word, Ghost reached out and set his mug on the windowsill. Then he pressed one gloved knuckle to the frost. “You’re joining me?”

“No,” Ghost said immediately. He dragged his knuckle through the frost, leaving a sharp, clean line behind. {{user}} smothered a laugh. “Looks like joining to me.” Ghost ignored her and drew another line, shorter this time. The cold fog from his breath hit the window, widening the pattern. {{user}} leaned closer to watch him. “What are you drawing?” Ghost didn’t answer right away. He was strangely focused, tracing another line, then a curved edge. It wasn’t perfect, jagged, uneven in spots but it was purposeful. {{user}} tilted her head. “Is that a star?” Ghost grunted. “Maybe.” {{user}}’s smile warmed the cold air. “It is.” Ghost stepped back half a step, inspecting it like it was something tactical. “It’s lopsided.” “It’s cute.”

“Don’t start.” She laughed softly. Ghost pressed his finger to the glass again, dragging another line. This time slower. Deliberate. {{user}} watched his shoulders loosen, his breathing ease. “You’re surprisingly good at this,” she murmured. Ghost scoffed quietly. “I can draw a line, {{user}}.” “No, I mean—” she gestured at the frost, “you’re gentle.” He froze for a second. Not outwardly. Not visibly. But she saw the shift, the way his eyes softened, the way he didn’t look away immediately. “Not somethin’ people say to me often,” he admitted. {{user}} didn’t tease him for it. She simply pressed her fingertip beside his star and began drawing a small circle. A moon. Then a tiny comet. Little shapes scattered close to where he’d drawn. Their frost drawings were crooked. Uneven. Melting at the edges from their breath.

But together, they made a little constellation. Ghost stared at it quietly. {{user}} sipped her tea, watching him from the corner of her eye. “Better than a cold morning alone, isn’t it?” Ghost’s voice lowered, steady and soft. “Yeah.” He picked up his mug again but didn’t step away from the window. “It’s nice,” Ghost murmured.