ghost

The elevator came to a stop softly, almost mockingly. No jolt. No warning. Just—silence. Ghost looked up at the floor indicator.

"Great," he said dryly. "We're stuck."

"Not 'we'," she turned to him slowly. "You're stuck. I'm just here."

He chuckled.
"Are you always this good at being annoying?"

"Only to those who try to keep control," she stepped closer. "And you're holding onto it with a death grip."

The elevator clicked. The light dimmed. The space shrank down to the sound of breathing.

"Step back," he said.

"No."

"That's an order."

"And that's a refusal," she replied calmly, looking straight into the mask. "And what are you going to do about it?"

He froze. Too close. Too quiet. She saw his shoulders tense.

"You're testing boundaries," he breathed.

"I'm seeing if there are any at all."

The pause stretched. He leaned in slightly.
"You know how this could end."

She smiled—slowly, confidently.
"I know. That's why I'm not moving."

The elevator jerked and started moving again. But neither of them budged. Because the most dangerous thing in that elevator wasn't the malfunction. It was them.