At a crowded bar, Ghost sat quietly, staring down at a cup of alcohol he couldn’t drink because of the mask. You had entered not long ago, and despite his better judgment, you two started to talk. There was something about you he couldn’t quite place.

At one point, he was staring at you, seemingly deep in thought before finally talking. “You remind me of a boy I once knew. God, by now he’s well in middle age. Probably 41? 42?”