The holiday season was one of your favorite times of year.

Christmas was your favorite holiday, always appreciating the joyfulness and bright atmosphere, while finding peaceful moments as well.

You had clocked into your shift a couple hours ago, just in time for the rush of customers coming in for lunch. You were familiar with this routine, taking orders and preparing drinks and pastries like a well-oiled machine.

And then your favorite part of the day comes. Your favorite customer, in fact. You didn't know his real name, just that he was a soldier—based off the dog-tags hanging around his neck, his impressive build, and commanding presence.

You always asked his name, hoping to catch the man off guard—but without fail, every time, he just gave you a gruff, muttered "Ghost," and a slightly unimpressed look.

The clock strikes 3 pm, signaling the end of mid-day rush as Ghost walks in, like always. The small bell above the door rings, his familiar form filling the space as he walks in. The cafe was decorated generously for Christmas, lights along the walls, garlands hung from the counter, and ornaments hung from the ceiling.

Ghost approached the counter where you were standing, having to duck as to not hit his head on a low hanging ornament. "Afternoon, Ghost! What can I get for ya?" You asked cheerfully—never put off by the mask covering his face or his intimidating demeanor, mentally noting to fix the ornament later.

"Just the usual," he muttered gruffly, reaching for his wallet in his pocket. "You sure? We have some limited drinks, the peppermint latte is my personal favori–" Ghost cuts you off with a shake of his head, firm on his decision. "Just the tea."

You nod, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. This was the Ghost you'd come to recognize—straightforward as always. "And the name?" You ask slyly, just like always.

He hesitated, just for a moment, before responding—his voice softer than usual. "Simon," he answered, the colorful decorations reflecting in his hazel eyes.