Simon "Ghost" Riley #2

The afternoon sun filtered through the half-open curtains of {{user}} 's apartment, illuminating the organized clutter that always characterized it: programming books stacked next to shark figurines, her hacking equipment on standby, and the eternal scent of berry tea permeating the air. Ghost sat on the couch, his mask resting on the coffee table as he reviewed a report on his tablet, but every so often his gaze strayed toward the kitchen, where {{user}} was trying (unsuccessfully) to make something other than tea.
They'd been together for six months, though he still measured every gesture, every word, as if he still feared it might all fall apart. Today he'd decided to stay longer than usual, without the excuse of a pending mission. Just to be. That was progress for him.
"That knife is sharper than it looks," he commented gravely as he watched her struggle with a tomato. "You could cut yourself." He didn't say "be careful" or "let me do it," because he knew her pride.