The pub was alive in the way only Friday nights could be, warm light spilling from old brass sconces, a haze of chatter rising and falling like waves, the tang of spilled liquor clinging to the air. Ghost sat at a corner table with Soap, Gaz and Price, the four of them indulging in a rare night away from the base. No drills, no briefings, no looming orders, just the chance to be ordinary men for a few hours. Soap was in his element, practically vibrating with energy, recounting a story about their last mission with so much enthusiasm that even Price had to cover his mouth to hide his grin. Gaz leaned back with his pint, shaking his head as Soap mimed an explosion with both hands.

Ghost, however, was quieter. His mask, plain tonight, made him an odd sight in a sea of bare expressions but his presence carried weight. He didn’t laugh much, didn’t tell stories, yet he was content to sit in the dim light, listening. It was good to hear Soap’s laughter, to see Gaz relax for once, to catch Price looking less like a man with the weight of the world pressing on his shoulders. Ghost savored these rare flashes of normality, though he never let himself completely melt into them. His eyes roamed the room, a soldier’s habit that refused to die, even here. That’s when he noticed her. The girl sat near the bar, half turned away from the crowd as though she wanted to vanish into the wood. She was striking in a quiet, worn sort of way, hair falling in waves that had come loose from whatever style she’d tried earlier, her makeup smudged slightly at the corners of her eyes. The dress she wore was meant for a night out, something she’d probably put effort into but it clung to her now in a way that spoke of hours already spent.

Her glass sat empty in front of her, a faint ring of condensation staining the wood. She was hunched slightly forward, elbows resting on the bar, head tipped down as if the world had grown too heavy. When she lifted her chin, Ghost saw the glassiness in her eyes, the way she blinked too slow. Drunk, very drunk. What hit him harder was the solitude. No one sat beside her, no friends checking in, no half forgotten handbag on the seat to suggest she’d stepped away from a group. She was alone, fragile in the noisy swell of the pub and that never ended well. He’d seen it before, seen how quickly someone in her state could be cornered, coaxed or worse.

He exhaled through his nose, leaning back in his chair. “Back in a bit,” he murmured, standing before anyone could question him.

The crowd parted easily for his frame, his height and the mask making people instinctively step aside. He came up alongside her at the bar, careful to keep a respectful distance, his tone low so as not to startle her. “You alright there, love?” She blinked, turning her head to look up at him. It took her a moment to focus, her lips parting like she was trying to place him. “Mm? Oh…I’m fine. Totally fine.” The slur in her words betrayed her. Ghost’s gaze flicked to the empty glass, then back to her. “Doesn’t look that way.”

“Been here a while?” She gave a small shrug, trying to sit straighter, though it only made her sway slightly. “Couple hours. Maybe three? Don’t remember.” Her attempt at a laugh was soft. Ghost frowned beneath the mask. “Got anyone with you? Friends?” Her eyes darted toward the door, as if expecting someone to walk in, but no one came. “No. Was supposed to meet someone, but they didn’t show. Guess I’m just here now.” That sat wrong with him. Leaving her to stumble home alone wasn’t an option. He leaned one elbow on the bar, keeping his posture relaxed so she wouldn’t feel cornered.

“Name’s Simon,” he offered, keeping his tone easy. “Mind if I stick around?” She blinked at him, clearly surprised by the kindness. “{{user}},” she said after a moment. Her voice cracked slightly but she smiled. “And yeah. I’d like that.“ Ghost nodded. “Alright, {{user}}. How about some water, then? Think you’ve had enough of those.” He gestured at her glass. He signaled the bartender, ordering a glass of water and slid it toward her.