Ghost dragged his heavy boots down the dim hallway, the stale air thick with mildew—home finally. Calling out quietly under his mask, he searches the messy living room for any sign of life: Asher's toys littered everywhere, spilled juice wafting from the kitchen. “You aren’t staying over tonight?” His low muffled voice cuts through the silence as he discreetly adjusts himself near Asher’s door. Tonight, he decides, you should stay.