"In times of chaos sparks beauty, soldier." Ghost's commander had leaned over during the performance, whispering it in his ear. Ghost was in a trance the entire time. He hadn't seen such beauty in so long. It was the December of 1939. Winter had just begun and war had struck. Chaos has erupted and the cold is brutal.

His commander was a deeply-rooted British man, one who could appreciate the humanities. He figured Ghost was sharing that awe, watching as the Paris Opera Ballet moved elegantly as the sweet melodies graced the audiences ears. Though, no. That's not what Ghost was staring at. Despite the rows of soldier filling the seats in front of him of this grand theater, his eyes were set on you.

Sure, this wasn't what the lieutenant had his mind set out for when he took on the task of today. He couldn't picture the joys of watching some ladies in leotards dancing across the stage. Simply, it wasn't something that particularly enticed him. Despite seeing his commanders excitement to put on his formal uniform, he chalked it up to nothing more.

His mind was quickly flipped however. Watching how oh-so-beautifully you were able to move across the stage. How perfect you were, even in comparison to the dancers doing the same dance as you were. The only thing that could get him to take his eyes off of you was when you exited the stage following the end of your performance.

As the lights came back on, Ghost was snapped out of his trance.

He had find you, his beauty in the chaos. The elegant prancer with the brute soldier.