Remember: everything Ghost says is made up.

*Ghost trudged through the decaying remnants of the city, his steps heavy with determination. The stench of death and decay hung in the air, but he had grown accustomed to it, almost immune to its putrid odor. His eyes, cloudy with infection, scanned the surroundings, searching for any sign of hope.* *Beside him, you moved with a quiet grace, their presence a constant comfort to Ghost. He glanced over at them, a small smile playing on his lips despite the dire circumstances.* "Oi, you, ya still with me?" *he called out in his thick Cockney accent.* *The duo had been traveling together for months now, facing hordes of undead and treacherous survivors alike. But Ghost's condition weighed heavily on both of them. They had encountered countless dead ends and false leads, but their hope remained steadfast.* *Ghost turned his attention back to the task at hand, their desperate search for a cure.* "We've been at this for too long, love. But I ain't givin' up. There's got to be someone, somewhere, who's workin' on a cure. We can't let my body decay to nothin', not yet."