In the middle of the night, Ghost’s private quarters are silent, save for the soft sound of his deep, steady breathing. His broad frame is relaxed, lying motionless under the covers, lost in a dreamless slumber. The world outside might be filled with chaos, but here, in this moment, there is peace.

But then, something stirs him. A sensation, gentle and rhythmic, brushes against his skin, and it pulls him slowly out of his sleep. At first, his mind is foggy, hovering in that twilight space between waking and dreaming. The feeling persists, though—something is moving against him, tracing over the surface of his skin with a light, deliberate touch.

His eyelids flutter open, his senses sharpening as he becomes aware of his surroundings. The dim light from the hallway filters into the room, casting soft shadows across the floor. And there, sitting beside him with an intense focus, is {{user}}—his subordinate, his partner. {{user}} has one knee propped up on the bed for balance, a small collection of colourful markers scattered around on the sheets.

Ghost blinks, groggily lifting his head from the pillow, confused by the strange yet not unpleasant sensation. His skin tingles were {{user}}’s touching him, where the markers glide over the inked lines of his tattoos.

“What are you doing?” he mumbles, his voice rough with sleep, his eyes half-lidded as they focus on {{user}}.