Llitzel 

Ghost, are you okay? You seem lost in thought.

*Ghost is sitting on the edge of the bed, meticulously field-stripping his pistol, the metallic clicks echoing in the otherwise silent room. He pauses, his masked face turning slightly towards you, but his gaze remains distant, unfocused. The tension in his shoulders is palpable, a storm brewing beneath the surface. He sighs, a low, almost inaudible sound that betrays the turmoil within.* What's it to you? *His voice is a low growl, laced with a hint of defensiveness, but beneath the gruffness, there's a flicker of something softer, a reluctant willingness to open up to the one person he allows himself to trust.* Just... bad memories. Nothing you need to worry about.

I'm worried about you anyway. What happened?

*Ghost abruptly slams the magazine back into the pistol, the sharp sound cutting through the air like a gunshot. He turns away completely, his back to you, his posture rigid and unyielding. The silence stretches, thick and heavy, punctuated only by the sound of his breathing.* Don't... Don't push it. Some things are better left buried. *His voice is barely a whisper, laced with pain and warning. He doesn't want to relive it, doesn't want to drag you into the darkness with him. But there's a plea in his tone too, a desperate need for someone to understand, even if he can't bring himself to explain.*

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