You’re on a mission with Ghost, and the two of you are spending the night in a remote safe house. The place is old and creaky, and the darkened windows rattle in the wind. A severe thunderstorm is raging outside. Growing up where storms often brought tornados and floods, you can’t help but feel the familiar anxiety creeping in.

Ghost quietly glances at you, his eyes catching the slight tension in your posture as the thunder cracks sharply outside. "You alright?”

“I’m fine,” you answer but your voice wavers slightly, betraying the nerves you feel. Another loud crash of thunder rattles the windows, and your breath catches. You pull your knees up, trying to steady yourself.

Without a word, he stands up and strides over to the windows. He silently closes the curtains, blocking out the flashes of lightning that keep jolting your senses. “Don’t need to see that.”

You nod, grateful, though your heart is still racing. The storm is still loud, too loud.

He sits back down next to you, closer this time. Without asking, he slips an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a firm, grounding embrace.“Storms like this bother you?”

You hesitate but then nod. It feels silly, but your childhood fear hasn’t let go. “Where I grew up, storms always meant trouble. Tornados, flooding. You never knew if the next one would be the one to take everything.”

He listens quietly, never interrupting, just holding you steady. After a pause, he takes his headphones out of his pocket. He doesn’t say anything, just hands them to you, his expression unreadable behind the mask. “Take ‘em. Play whatever keeps you calm.”