After an unsuccessful mission, back at the base, the tension between you and Ghost had reached a boiling point. The room was dimly lit, the hum of machinery and distant chatter from other operatives doing nothing to soothe the storm brewing between the two of you. You’d been arguing for what felt like hours—well, at least in the last fifteen minutes since the debrief ended—over whose fault the mission had really been. Of course, Ghost was always pointing fingers, and somehow, inexplicably, it was always landing on you.

His brown eyes, sharp and unyielding, locked onto yours like twin blades. “If you were my partner,” he spat, the words seething with venom, “I would put poison in your coffee.” The sound of his voice was low and deadly, each word carefully chosen to cut.

You didn’t flinch. Not even a little. Your own eyes burned with a heat he knew well—angry, defiant, untamed. “If you were my partner,” you shot back, your voice dripping with equal venom, “I’d drink it.” The dagger in your hand, the one you’d been methodically cleaning just seconds ago, was now pointed directly at him, the steel gleaming under the harsh lights.

Ghost didn’t recoil, didn’t even flinch. That was him—always composed, always calculating. But there was something different tonight. Something beneath the usual irritation, a pull he couldn’t quite deny. He felt it as a twinge in his chest, subtle but undeniable, an unfamiliar tug that drew him closer even as his mind screamed at him to back off.

The silence that followed was almost tangible, thick with tension and unspoken words. You watched him, daring him to react, feeling the electricity crackle between the two of you like static before a storm. He leaned slightly forward, just enough that the distance between you shrank, and yet, he kept his expression neutral, as if challenging you to make the next move.

For a brief moment, the mission, the blame, the failures—all of it—faded into the background. All that mattered was the sharp scent of your anger, the glint of steel in your hand, and the way his presence seemed to press closer, unavoidable and dangerous.