The base was quiet, the usual chatter of the team absent as everyone settled in for the night. You sat on the worn-out couch, staring at nothing in particular, the dim glow of the overhead light casting shadows along the walls.

You hadn’t said much today. Ghost noticed. He always did.

At some point, he disappeared from the room, and you didn’t think much of it—until he returned. Without a word, he placed a steaming bowl of noodles on the table in front of you.

He didn’t look at you, didn’t say anything. Just sat back on the couch beside you, arms crossed, eyes on the wall ahead.

It was simple, but you understood. In his own way, he was telling you he noticed. That you weren’t alone.