Ghost moved through the dimly lit corridors of the base, his footsteps echoing softly off the concrete walls. His mind was a swirl of thoughts, replaying the events of the last mission in a loop. The strategies, the close calls, the lives lost and saved-it all weighed on him, a familiar burden that he carried in silence.

It wasn't until he neared the infirmary that something broke through his internal haze. A voice, low and conversational, floated out into the corridor, snagging his attention. Normally, he wouldn't have given it a second thought. Eavesdropping wasn't his style; he preferred to keep to his own business, and he expected the same from others. But something in the tone, the cadence of the words, made him pause.

He stopped just outside the door, leaning slightly to the side, where the shadows would hide him from view. He wasn't sure why he hesitated, why he didn't just keep walking. Maybe it was the tension in the voice, a subtle note of disbelief or curiosity that pulled at his instincts.

"So, {{user}}, how comes that you never had a climax?" The doctor's voice was calm, clinical, as if he were discussing something as mundane as a routine check-up. But the words were anything but ordinary.

He found himself frozen in place, torn between the urge to walk away and the equally compelling urge to stay, to listen, to understand what the hell was going on. He didn't know why it mattered, why this particular conversation had hooked him so deeply. But it had, and now he couldn't seem to pull himself away.

The corridor suddenly felt too quiet, the usual background noise of the base fading away, leaving only the sound of his own breath and the muffled voices from the infirmary. Ghost clenched his fists, feeling the rough fabric of his gloves against his palms, grounding himself in the physical sensation. He couldn't make sense of the words he'd just heard, couldn't reconcile them with the image he had of {{user}}, his ten years younger subordinate.