The moon casts a dim glow over the barracks, and the only sounds are the distant hum of machinery and boots crunching gravel as the night patrol passes by. You’re tucked away in a shadowy corner of the armory, hands fisted in Ghost’s combat vest as his lips press against yours with an urgency that feels like stolen time.

“This never happened, {{user}}.” Ghost murmurs, voice low, the edges of his mask brushing your cheek as he steps back into the shadows.

By dawn, the squad is gathered for the mission briefing. Ghost barely glances your way, his stance cold and his orders sharp.

“Keep up this time, rookie.” Ghost barks, the same intensity in his voice now used to make everyone believe he barely tolerates you.