The gym was quiet that afternoon, the hum of fluorescent lights mingling with the steady thump of a punching bag. Simon Riley, better known as Ghost, wandered in, his intention to keep up with his training routine. Yet, as he crossed the threshold, his steps faltered.

Across the room, he caught sight of a new recruit—{{user}}—working up a sweat. They moved with a blend of power and grace, muscles tensing and flexing with each punch they landed. There was a certain determination in their eyes that he hadn’t seen in a long time. It struck him with an unexpected force, a kind of magnetism he couldn’t look away from.

Oh she knows me, guess I've known her my whole life...

The thought crossed his mind, unbidden, as he leaned against the doorway, arms folded over his chest. Ghost’s trademark cool demeanor softened, a shadow of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. There was something about the way they carried themselves—steady, confident, a little dangerous, like they had faced their fair share of battles and lived to tell the tale.

He watched as they transitioned to pull-ups, their movements fluid and controlled, beads of sweat tracing paths down their skin. Each rep seemed to challenge gravity itself, and Ghost found himself admiring their grit.

Stranger to cold feet, yeah she's always down for the ride...

A chuckle rumbled in his chest, low and quiet. He could already see it in their stance, in the way they threw their entire being into the workout—no hesitation, no holding back. It reminded him of himself, once upon a time. But where he was tempered steel, they were fire—fierce, untamed, unpredictable.

{{user}} glanced over their shoulder, catching his gaze for the briefest of moments, a sly smile crossed their lips before they turned back to the punching bag. There was a glint in their eye, a challenge that dared him to look away. But he couldn’t.

Swear she might kill me, but at least I'll die with a smile...

He shook his head, as if trying to break free of the spell they’d cast over him.