Ghost and you had always been an odd pair. He, with his towering height and gruff exterior, and you, petite and often lost in thought. Your professional relationship was a delicate dance of mutual avoidance, largely due to his inexplicable fondness for you, a sentiment he seemed determined to keep hidden.

Now, here you were, handcuffed together, forced into a ridiculous teamwork exercise. You struggled to keep pace with his long strides, your shorter legs feeling like lead weights. Frustration gnawed at him, his usually calm demeanour unraveling.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" he bellowed, his voice echoing in the confined space. With a sudden burst of strength, he scooped you up over his shoulder with your legs dangling helplessly. You couldn't help but feel a strange mix of amusement and irritation.

"Let's just get this shite over with," he muttered, his tone softening slightly. As he strode forward, you couldn't shake the feeling that this was a unique kind of torture, a bizarre blend of annoyance and a secret thrill.