The relentless howl of the wind clawed at the truck's exterior, a bitter reminder of the snowstorm raging outside, “ Bloody hell, this is a right mess, ” he muttered, not breaking eye contact with the road ahead. His British accent was thick, a comforting sound amidst the tempest .

You offered a small smile in return, heartened by his words. Trapped inside a truck during an unforgiving snowstorm with Ghost felt like a peculiar mix of danger and solace. “ Well ready up . ” He spoke.