The storm had rolled in quicker than expected. Snow hammered against the boarded windows, a white curtain swallowing the world outside. The cabin wasn’t much—one room, a stone hearth that hadn’t been used in years, and a stash of forgotten odds and ends in the cabinets. But it was shelter.

Ghost shoved the door shut against the wind, shoulder pressing hard until the latch caught. His mask was half-frozen, the edges rimed with ice, but his voice came rough, steady as always.

“Better than the blizzard, eh?”

You exhaled, dropping your pack by the wall and rubbing your arms for warmth. “Barely.”

It was cold enough that your breath came in clouds. You did a quick scan of the place—dust, cobwebs, a cracked whiskey bottle on the table, and a box of old rations. Not exactly dinner. You tore open the box and frowned. Inside was nothing but a stack of gum packets, faded lettering still intact.

“Well, here’s our feast.” You tossed one of the gum packs onto the table.

Ghost gave a low grunt, already working on prying open the whiskey. “Better than nothin’.” He poured some into a tin mug, the scent sharp in the air. He slid a second mug across to you, though you waved it off.

You unwrapped the gum instead, popping one into your mouth. It was sweet at first, strange after so many missions fueled by bitter coffee and ration bars. A little too sweet, almost cloying, but you chewed anyway, leaning back against the wall.

Minutes stretched. Ghost sipped his whiskey in silence, gaze fixed on the fire he was trying to coax to life. You shifted in your spot, leg bouncing, fingers drumming against your thigh. Something felt…off.

The warmth spreading through you wasn’t just from the gum. Your pulse picked up, an odd restlessness crawling under your skin. You tugged at your collar, then tapped your fingers harder, trying to ignore the jittery energy pooling in your chest.

Ghost’s head turned, his shadowed eyes narrowing as he caught the movement. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly, too quickly. You chewed the gum harder, jaw tight. “Just…feel weird. Fidgety.”

He studied you for a long moment, quiet as always, then went back to his drink. But his attention wasn’t gone—you felt it, heavy and watchful, even as you shifted again, pressing your palms against your knees to keep still.