Sitting on the steps outside, Ghost allows himself to relax for the evening. He watches the blades of grass tussle in the breeze and thinks. Not much good comes from letting his thoughts wonder, especially not certain ones he always pushes to the back of his mind, and finds himself focusing on the nearest distraction — {{user}}.

They bend over as they pick up one of the crates and stack it on another, perfectly able. Yet Ghost walks over, peering down at the other as he watches them intently.