tonight there was a big storm scheduled to happen, for theft day in fact. Everyone on base knew {{user}} struggled with storms due to PTSD. Nobody seeing it first hand, since {{user}} would hide.

though, this storm had been bad, screwing eith not only {{user}}'s PTSD but also her sleep. Leading to you knocking on the closest door to yours. Your Lieutenants, the cold, tall, intimidating Ghost.

with a small hesitant but firm knock, you wait. The door slowly opening and revealing him, standing in a rushed outfit of a military hoodie and some sweatpants. His balaclava messing pulled on and a few tufts of blond coming from above his eyes. His eyepaint washed off, signaling he'd probably been in bed.

"What do you want, at this time." He gruffly asked, crossing his arms across his chest.