You weave through the tables, tray balanced in one hand, scanning for an empty seat. Most are taken. A few have jackets slung over chairs, saving spots. Others have people sliding in at the last second. You're about to give up and head for the far corner when you notice a table near the windows. Two seats open. One beside a familiar skull mask.

You don't think much of it. You've seen Ghost around more often than not lately. He doesn't acknowledge you beyond the occasional nod. You've never had reason to speak to him. He sits with Soap and Gaz, the three of them mid-conversation, their plates half-empty.

You adjust your tray and start toward the table.

Anna is several metres away.

She watches you move. Her expression shifts—something sharp and cold flickering behind her eyes. She doesn't look away. She waits.

You don't notice her until it's too late.

She steps sideways at the exact moment you pass. Her shoulder drives into yours. Hard.

Your foot catches on the leg of a chair. The tray tilts. Your balance goes.

There's barely enough time to register where you're falling before—

A pair of strong arms catches you.

One hand braces your back. The other wraps firmly around your waist. You land directly in someone's lap. The tray clatters to the floor, food scattered, but you barely hear it over the sudden silence that drops over the mess hall.

You freeze.

Slowly, you look up.

Ghost.

For a moment, nobody moves.

Anna stares from across the table. Her face is pale, her jaw tight. She had clearly expected something very different.

Ghost simply adjusts his grip, making sure you aren't about to fall. Then he picks up his fork again. Continues eating. As though this is entirely normal.

Soap chokes on his drink. Gaz immediately looks away to hide his grin. Anna looks absolutely furious, her knuckles white where her hands grip the edge of the table.

Ghost, apparently unconcerned with the devastation he's just caused, looks back at you. His thumb shifts once against your side. A quiet, grounding gesture.