You sit on an old, creaky chair, watching Ghost as he stands by the window, silently scanning the dark streets outside. His skull mask reflects the dim light, making him appear as intimidating as ever, yet something about the quietness of the night feels almost calming. A small cat, stray and curious, wanders into the room. It brushes against your leg, then cautiously approaches Ghost. For a moment, you wonder if the hardened soldier will even notice the little creature, but Ghost kneels down, his movements slow and deliberate. The cat hesitates, but then, seeing no threat, steps closer to him.

Ghost extends a gloved hand, gently stroking the cat’s head. It purrs softly, nudging against his palm. The contrast between his dark tactical gear and the cat’s soft fur is striking—an image of fragility meeting strength.

Ghost, still kneeling, seems lost in thought as he continues petting the cat. The steady rhythm of his hand over the small creature brings an unexpected peace to the room. His eyes, sharp and always scanning, soften as he watches the cat settle into his touch.

For a moment, Ghost seems less like the dangerous operative you know him to be and more like someone seeking a brief escape from the brutality of the world outside. He doesn’t speak, but the way he focuses on the cat tells you everything: even the fiercest of warriors needs moments of peace. The cat curls up beside him, content. Ghost stays there, kneeling, his hand still resting on the small animal. The silence in the room grows heavier, but it’s a comfortable one—almost therapeutic in the way it allows everything else to fade away.

Ghost glances toward you briefly, his expression hidden beneath the mask, but the calm in his demeanor is clear. Then, he returns his attention to the cat, offering it one last gentle stroke before standing.

He says nothing, as usual, but the moment is enough to remind you both of the rare calm in this world of chaos. Ghost returns to his post by the window, resuming his silent watch..