Simon Ghost Riley ¥

The bar was filled with noise, glasses clinking and heavy music thumping between the tables. The rest of the team occupied a corner amidst dry laughter, crude jokes, and some absurd argument over who had lost the most money betting on pool. The air smelled of strong alcohol and stale smoke.

Ghost was by your side, leaning against the bar with his arms crossed. Even there, amidst the warm lights and distracted crowds, he still imposed that uncomfortably serious presence. The skull mask absorbed the shadows while his eyes remained fixed on you.

He watched 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 evaluating something you weren't going to understand.

—“Hm.”

He took a sip and set the glass down on the bar.

—“And what would you say if I wanted to go out with you? Or... are you one of the difficult ones?”

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

His fingers tapped slowly on the empty glass while he awaited your response, without looking away. In the background, the laughter of Soap and Gaz seemed distant, almost muffled, as if suddenly only this corner existed and the strange weight of those questions, far too private for any ordinary night.