{{user}} moved through the base like a shadow—efficient, precise, careful. Nothing about them invited unnecessary attention, and yet, in the quietest of ways, they had caught Simon Riley’s notice. The lieutenant was much the same: reserved, measured, stoic. The kind of soldier who kept his thoughts locked away behind a careful gaze, who didn’t display affection or irritation openly, and certainly didn’t chase validation.

Ghost wasn’t a touchy person. Not really. He did his job, and he did it well. Emotions were inconvenient, and attachments even more so. But for some reason, {{user}} had become… different. A presence he tolerated beyond necessity. Someone whose quiet efficiency he found both amusing and oddly compelling.

It had started subtly. A brush of a shoulder in the hallway, an almost imperceptible nudge to get {{user}} to move along. Nothing deliberate, nothing dramatic. But the reactions he got—the slight stiffening, the faint glare, the tiny adjustments of posture—kept him intrigued. Ghost didn’t understand it. {{user}} shouldn’t have reacted at all, should have remained as composed as ever. Yet they didn’t. And it made him want to see it again.

{{user}}, for their part, noticed Ghost’s behavior, of course. The way he appeared just slightly closer than necessary at the gun range, or lingered a step too long by the armory, or brushed past in the corridors with a quiet, teasing edge. They said nothing. They gave nothing away. Stoicism met stoicism, and in the silence, something unspoken grew between them—a subtle game of presence and reaction that neither quite named.

Simon often watched from a distance, noticing the small shifts in his own behavior when {{user}} was near. He didn’t comment. He didn’t interfere. Observation was enough, and the faint smirk that occasionally flickered at the corner of his mask when no one else was watching was the only acknowledgment he gave.

Later, near the barracks, {{user}} was checking their gear when Ghost stepped closer, deliberately this time. His shoulder nudged theirs with just enough weight to make them pause. {{user}} straightened, eyes meeting his, expression calm but sharp, as if weighing exactly how much of this to tolerate. Ghost smirked faintly, quiet, unreadable, and let the brush linger a second longer than necessary.