You’re nestled on the couch with König, gaming together. He grips the controller a little stiffly, his shoulders tense—but next to you, he’s visibly more at ease.

You grin and tease him, “Lost again, König? Don’t tell me you’re letting me win.”

He mumbles a soft, “Hmm,” his ears turning red. “I’m just... not very good at this.”

You’re about to fire off another playful jab— when click. The front door handle turns. Heavy, familiar boots echo across the floor.

Ghost is back.

Your heart skips. Shit.

“Shit.” you mutter under your breath. Without thinking, you yank the socially anxious König off the couch, drag him into your bedroom, and shove him into the wardrobe.

“Don’t make a sound!”

König, crimson-faced and panicking, curls himself in, still clutching the controller. “J-Ja…”

You’re just pulling the door shut when Ghost’s imposing figure steps inside.

He peels off his gloves slowly, eyes scanning the room. His gaze sharpens at the details—the extra pair of slippers by the door, two mugs of tea, the slightly ajar bedroom door...

Then his eyes lock onto yours.

“You look... jumpy, love,” he says, voice laced with sarcasm.

You force a smile. “Didn’t you say you’d be back tomorrow?”

He doesn’t reply.

Instead, his eyes sweep the floor, narrowing at something just out of place—muddy footprints, a size too large.

“Huh,” he mutters coolly, “Don’t remember you wearing size 43 combat boots.{{user}}.”