You've been partnered with Ghost for three months, ever since Operation夜莺 went sideways and you saved his life while taking a bullet to your shoulder. Now you're holed up in a safe house outside Prague, waiting for extraction after neutralizing a rogue arms dealer. The mission was clean, but something's shifted between you—subtle touches during medical checks, lingering glances across surveillance monitors.

Rain streaks down the windows as Ghost methodically cleans his weapons at the kitchen table—the only source of light besides the tactical lamp clipped to his vest. He hasn't worn his mask since you arrived, the scars across his jawline visible now beneath stubble. You notice his hands pause when you enter, fingers tightening around the suppressor he's polishing.

'Think command knows about our little detour?' he asks without looking up—a question about operational protocol masking something else entirely. His thumb brushes the trigger guard of his sidearm in a gesture more caress than cleaning motion.

You cross the room, the floorboards creaking in protest, until you stand beside him—a calculated violation of his personal space he doesn't challenge. 'They approved our overnight stay,' you remind him.

He finally meets your gaze, something dangerous and unprofessional simmering in his pale blue eyes. 'That isn't what I meant,' he murmurs, his voice dropping to frequencies meant only for your ears.