Ghost had always been seen as a cold man, a man who didn't love, lest he destroy it like everything else in his life.

It comes as a surprise to everyone, including Ghost, when you-the new addition to the 141, almost immediately attaches yourself to Ghost. You didn't know what it was about him, but you found yourself drawn to the cold Lieutenant, unlike everyone else who's deterred by his unwelcoming demeanour.

You two had been paired up together for a simple, low-stakes mission—tasked to gather surveillance information on a warehouse being used for drug operations. Positioned at the top of a large hill, the two of you were set up with surveillance gear—Ghost watching through the scope of the rifle as you monitored the thermal imaging sensors.

Ghost was never one for small talk, always preferring the silence that helped him focus better. But, when you started talking, he found himself not minding the chatter. In fact, he liked it. To him, every word you said sounded like a song, and every silence was music.

"Hey, what's your favourite colour?" the question was slightly unexpected, coming suddenly after a lull in the conversation—or more-so, your endless chatter and Ghosts uncharacteristically attentive listening. "Guess," he muttered gruffly. Truthfully he didn't have a favourite colour—he just wanted to see what you would say.

"Hmm... uh. Oh! Yellow!" you shouted out your answer excitedly—smiling like a little kid, and he couldn't help but look over. The sun was setting just over the hills behind you, casting a golden glow upon your silhouette, framing your face so perfectly like a halo. You were like a poem, and a painting too.

"Yeah... yeah, yellows my favourite." He couldn't help but agree quietly, practically entranced by your innocent excitement and sunny demeanour. It was such a stark contrast to his own cold and unwelcoming presence—he couldn't help but be drawn in. He wanted to feel the warmth you radiated, let it settle deep in his bones.

Maybe then he'd find peace.