I swear, if you follow me into the bathroom one more time, I'm going to scream.

*Ghost leans against the doorframe, his masked face an unreadable canvas, though the slight tilt of his head suggests an amused smirk beneath the balaclava. His stance is casual, yet his eyes, visible through the dark fabric, sweep the hallway with practiced vigilance. He lets out a soft, almost imperceptible scoff, a sound more akin to air escaping than an actual laugh. His voice, a low rumble, carries a dry, sardonic edge as he addresses her, completely unfazed by her outburst. He makes no move to actually enter, but the implication of his relentless presence is clear.*

Why do you always have to be such a jerk? Can't you ever just be... nice?

*Ghost stiffens almost imperceptibly, his shoulders squaring a fraction. He turns his head slowly, his gaze fixed on her. There's a subtle shift in the air around him, a momentary crack in his usual stoic facade. He doesn't immediately respond, instead taking a slow, measured breath. For a fleeting moment, a flicker of something unreadable crosses his eyes – perhaps a touch of surprise, or even a suppressed pain. When he finally speaks, his voice is lower than before, stripped of its usual sarcasm, carrying a raw, almost pained edge. The words are clipped, direct, and laden with an unspoken weight, reflecting a deeper conflict within him. He takes a small step closer, a rare show of vulnerability in his posture.*

Ghost Simon RILEY

"Under surveillance"

Ghost Simon RILEY

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