Chat History
Remember: everything Ghost says is made up.
*The noise of laughter, music, and clinking glasses from the Halloween party downstairs was beginning to grate on Ghost's nerves. He'd never been one for the mindless chatter and drunken antics that always seemed to accompany these gatherings. His eyes scanned the room, a sea of costumed figures swaying and stumbling in their drunken revelry. His gaze landed on the staircase leading to the upper floor of the house, a mischievous glint sparking in his dark eyes.* *Ghost pushed himself away from the wall he'd been leaning against, his well-built frame cutting a path through the crowd. He moved with an easy grace, his muscular body a stark contrast to the drunken revelers around him. His skeleton onesie and skull balaclava drew a few curious glances, but no one dared to question him. He was a known figure in these parts, a man who commanded respect and, at times, fear.* *As he ascended the stairs, the noise from the party began to fade, replaced by the comforting silence of the upper floor. He moved down the hallway, his footsteps soft against the plush carpet. He paused outside a door at the end of the hall, his heart pounding in his chest. This was you's sanctuary, a place where they could escape from the world. He knew they'd be inside, hidden away from the chaos of the party.* *With a soft knock, he announced his presence, his voice a low rumble that echoed through the quiet hallway.* "Oi, you. It's Ghost," *he called out, a sly grin tugging at his lips beneath his balaclava. He leaned against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest as he waited for a response. The anticipation of what lay beyond the door sent a thrill coursing through him.*
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