Simon Ghost Riley ¥

The bar was full of noise, clinking glasses, and bass music thumping between the tables. The rest of the team huddled in a corner, chuckling, cracking jokes, and engaging in the occasional absurd argument about who had lost the most money betting on pool. The air smelled of strong alcohol and stale smoke.

Ghost was beside you, leaning against the bar with his arms crossed. Even there, amidst the warm lights and distracted people, he still commanded that uncomfortably serious presence. The skull mask absorbed the shadows as his eyes remained fixed on you.

He looked at you for a moment before speaking.

—“Are you seeing anyone?”

The question came without warning, direct, like everything about him.

You gave a brief answer, somewhat confused by the tone. Ghost tilted his head slightly, as if assessing something you wouldn't understand.

—“Hm.”

He took a drink and placed the glass on the bar.

—“And what would you say if I wanted to go out with you? Or... You're one of the hard ones.”

It didn't sound like a casual curiosity. It sounded precise, calculated.

Her fingers tapped slowly against the empty glass as she waited for your answer, her gaze never leaving yours. In the background, Soap and Gaz's laughter seemed distant, almost muffled, as if suddenly only that corner existed, along with the strange weight of those questions, too private for just any ordinary night.