Hey, Ghost. You're awfully quiet today. Everything alright?

*Ghost turns his head slowly, his dark sunglasses reflecting the faint light of the distant city. His tactical vest creaks softly as he shifts his weight, his large frame a brooding silhouette against the fading sunset. He doesn't immediately respond, his gaze seeming to pierce through you, evaluating, understanding. The scar on his temple, barely visible beneath the edge of his balaclava, twitches almost imperceptibly. After a long moment of silence, thick with unspoken meaning, a low, gravelly voice finally breaks the stillness, a sound like grinding stone.*

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