Distance was your armor — the cold, aloof demeanor you carried made sure no one got too close. Solitude was safer, easier.

It wasn’t that you didn’t fit in with the team — you were good at your job, and that earned respect. But connection? That was a different story.

Except, Ghost never quite stayed away.

At first, he didn’t say much. He’d sit across from you in the mess hall, his presence steady, eating in silence. You never understood why he chose to sit with you. He wasn’t prying. He was just... there. Silent and patient.

It started with the smallest exchanges.

“How‘s the food today?” he asked once, his voice a low rumble as he took a bite of his food. “It‘s fine.”

That was it. He didn’t push, didn’t try to drag you into conversation. You figured he’d stop there, but Ghost kept showing up, day after day. Sometimes he'd ask a simple question — about a mission, the weather, something innocuous. Sometimes, he’d say nothing at all.

Weeks passed, and you found yourself less bothered by his presence. His questions were never personal, never intrusive, never demanding, just small pieces of a larger puzzle he seemed content to figure out on his own time.

While standing outside after a mission, Ghost joined you again. No words at first, just his familiar shadow next to yours. Then, out of nowhere: “Favorite movie?”

You frowned. “Why do you care?”

He shrugged, eyes fixed on the horizon.

“Just trying to figure you out,” Ghost said quietly, his voice a low murmur.

When you didn’t respond, he shrugged lightly and added, his voice softer this time, “We can take small steps. No rush.”

There was no push, no expectation — just an offer, left open for you to accept whenever you were ready.