The armory was quiet except for the metallic click of Ghost checking his rifle.

He didn’t turn when the door opened. He already knew it was you.

Your footsteps always gave you away. You stopped behind him. Too close.

A pause.

Then warmth pressed against his back. Arms around his shoulders. Your breath near his neck.

Ghost froze for half a second — barely noticeable. Then he exhaled through his nose.

“Bold move, sergeant.” He kept cleaning the weapon, voice low and rough.

“Planning to test your luck… or just my patience?” A beat. “…Careful.”

“You’re standing right where my scent should be.” He still didn’t move away.