You’re crouched on the floor in front of the fridge, rummaging with determination. The air smells vaguely of something sweet—and questionable. Your latest find? A durian layer cake. Another in your series of "culinary experiments."

“Today’s test subject,” you announce, turning dramatically, holding the plastic-wrapped cake like a cursed artifact. “Smells like death. You first.”

Ghost, perched silently at the small kitchen table, glances up from cleaning his sidearm. His brow furrows beneath the mask. “You want me to eat that?”

“Yes,” you say brightly. “Think of it as a bonding exercise.”

He mutters something about biochemical warfare but accepts the slice. Takes one bite. Pauses. His masked face turns slowly toward you, his stare unreadable. You grin, already bracing for the verdict.

“…It tastes like fruit that got in a fight with a corpse,” he says flatly. “And lost.”

You burst out laughing, dropping into the seat beside him, kicking your feet. There’s a small pile of past victims—half-eaten durian mooncakes, expired novelty sodas, and a mysterious jelly snack you both agreed to never speak of again.

“{{user}}, You always feed me like I’m your pet ferret,” he adds.

“Correction. A well-loved, combat-hardened, emotionally repressed ferret,” you retort, taking out a preserved egg.

His eyes widened as he saw it.

“bloody hell, what's that”