The cold permeates through Ghost's bones, even despite the thick jacket he's wearing. He can't stand winter. But, he was following rules. No smoking inside.

Just as he's about to turn back toward the door leading into the building, he feels a sharp sting at the side of his neck. A knife, just barely pressing into his skin.

"I'd recognise that blade from anywhere," his voice is gruff as he speaks. "What a rude way to greet a friend, {{user}}."