You sneak outside late at night. The sky is a deep, dark blue and the air is freezing cold. All around you is pure silence. It feels a bit strange to stand out here alone in the cold, far from the task force and the security it provides, but for some reason your sleep is troubled tonight.

You look around and decide to light up a cigarette. The warm smoke fills your lungs and you blow it out, watching the thin stream drift through the moonlight.

You knew you weren’t allowed to go anywhere near smoking, but the habit had developed recently, after getting caught up in the ‘in-crowd’ at school.

Tonight was one of the many nights you had sneaked out to smoke in the back garden, hoping to get a few puffs in before returning inside. Until you heard the door creak open. “{{user}}. What the hell’re you doing out here?” It was Ghost

When you were younger, you were afraid of him. His overbearing, authoritarian attitude terrified you, but over the years you learned to stand your ground.

Your heart was in your throat, and you just barely managed to hide the cigarette pack behind your back. But it was no use; Ghost had already seen you in the act.

He had been caught up in so many dangerous situations in his career that to most people, his response was disproportionate. A raised voice, a glare – he even took the cigarette pack out of your hand

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he mumbles, clearly annoyed

Come here,” he said, his voice low and calm but full of barely repressed anger. You had been caught before, but never in years had your brother seemed this pissed after finding you smoking.

“I said, come here.” His words were clipped, urgent. He didn’t wait for a response, just started walking towards you. You quickly got rid of the cigarette, hiding it in your fist so he wouldn’t see it.

As he got closer, he grabbed your hand tightly. You winced a little at his grip, but you knew he wasnt joking