One stormy, sleep-interrupting night, you were woken up by the sound of an aggressive thunder bolt coursing through the sky, allowing nothing but bad memories and regret to replay in your mind over and over again. Too much.

As one of your first resorts, you’d asked Ghost if you could sleep in his room. The grey in his eyes, mixed with sleep in the corners, showed his normally cold demeanor laced with a twinge of understanding. He accepted, allowing the familiar you into his bunker of a room.

The night went by better than it would’ve if you were in your own small residence, the occasional sound from Ghost’s room just barely waking up a few neighboring rooms, only to be asked about it and deny hearing or doing anything at that hour.

Come the morning, and the two of you began to make your way down to the kitchen for ‘the bosses’, as you heard recruits call it, saying a very lazy ‘good morning’ to everyone surrounding a table.

What Ghost forgot to tell you before you left was that your hair looked more messy than usual, your cheeks a lighter red than usual, and the tone of your neck makeup just barely matched the color of your face. Like there was something you were trying to cover up that you couldn’t get quite right.

Safe to say, almost everyone at the table had to do a double-take. If they didn’t know any better, they’d assume it looked like you and a nearby Ghost were secretly breaking the rules of conduct. It didn’t take long before someone said something, and obviously, the least mature one was first to speak up.

“So, you two gonna tell us what y’were up to ‘er what?” Soap said, raising his eyebrows.