Later that day, when the night has already fallen, most of the Vaqueros had put themselves away to rest, only Rora, Soap and two other Vaqueros remaining in the smaller hall. Rora seated herself at a table close to what seemed like a small kitchen. A dim light hanging above her head, giving her face an ethereal glow as she inspected the cards in her hand, her brows furrowing in concentration.

„We don't have all day, Wellsy," Soap groaned, leaning back in the seat opposite her, holding his own cards close to him. She rolled her eyes, placing a card down, her icy eyes snapping to his face.

He looked tired, but the friendly glint in his eyes never dimmed, despite the late hours. She was wide awake, as usual, her thoughts keeping her awake, no matter how much she would love a good sleep right now. So, out of boredom, she looked around the lounge area, founding a stack of cards that based on the pictograms in the back, was like a child of poker, UNO and 21. She was good at UNO, almost shit at poker, and 21 was 21. But she needed a partner, and her choice fell on MacTavish, who seemed to be a pretty weak opponent to her. She wasn't that much of a good player, but she was a master at lying. So, bluffing and pretending that she had every card to even win over God, she was pretty much set.

„It's now time for your grumpy ass to get beat, Handsoap," she flashed him a mischievous grin, putting her booted legs up on the seat next to her.

He blinked several times, trying to stay awake as he looked through his cards, and by the looks of it, he didn't have many good cards. He had a pretty shitty poker face, and seeing his struggle she had to bite back a laugh.

„I'm a smart man," he mumbled to himself, letting his chin fall back in his palm as he tried to think about a good move.

„You're not fooling anybody here, MacTavish," she chuckled, earning a half-cold look from him. The tiredness in his eyes took off the edge of his gaze, her smile widening. „Go rest, Soap. Just admit you lost."

He opened his mouth to argue with her, but a yawn cut him off, only making it more sure that she won.

„We'll continue this in the morning, Wellsy," he threw his cards on the table, the cards facing down so she couldn't see them. She rolled her eyes, an amused smirk still lingering on her lips. „And I didn't lose."

„Yeah, I just won," Rora brushed him off, reaching a fist to the air, the Scotsman fist-bumping her on his way to his room. „Sleep well, loser."

„Fuck off, Wellsy!" he retorted, earning a hearty chuckle from her, her laugh bouncing back from the white walls.

Not soon after that, the two Vaqueros left, too, leaving only her in the mutual space. It was a nice little space, a worn-out couch tossed in front of a fairly big TV, a big table (where they played poker) splitting the living room space off the small kitchen, and another smaller table in the back corner. The kitchen was poorly furnished, with only a smaller fridge, a microwave, and a coffee machine tossed on the counter. She was sure they had multiple kitchens, she remembered seeing one on her way when she wandered around with Alejandro. Apparently, this one was just for emergencies.

It was nearing midnight when she opened up a book she found thrown on the couch, probably left there by a Vaquero. It was about a Russian man trying to go from Point A to Point B when an atomic bomb caused all types of creatures to roam the world, the population being forced to live in the metro tunnels.

It was not the type of book she would usually read, but it was not that bad, the dark humor here and there keeping her captivated so much, she only got dragged out from the paged by heavy footsteps coming from behind her.

Out of instinct, she reached for the knife readied out in front of her, her turning around in her seat just to see a tall figure emerge from the dark hallway, a skull-printed balaclava concealing his features.

He only greeted her with a nod, a smile appearing on her lips.

„Can't sleep, Lt.?" she sang, putting the book face down, keeping it open where she left off. She followed his figure to the kitchen, watching as he opened a cabinet, only a few plates in there. He was quick to close it, opening the one beside it, finally finding some glasses. He took one out of it.

„It's 2 am, Wells, why are you not in your room?" Ghost asked, his back to her as he opened the tap, filling the glass only a little past halfway.

Her eyes widened at his question, she had no idea it was already that late. Usually, she was closed off in her room by midnight, not wanting to disturb anybody, but time flew by like it was nothing.

„Found a book," was her answer, lifting up the book from the table as he turned around, his eyes wandering to the title displayed on the front before it snapped back to her face.

They held each other's gaze for a few moments, silence settling between them. It was then that she noticed he wasn't in his usual gear, only a dark grey long-sleeved shirt and blue jeans covering him, besides his mask. He was oddly normal-looking if she ignored the mask that brought nothing but trauma with it, but now, she slowly started to accept that the mask belonged to him, not Everett.

He turned back around to close the cabinet he just got the glass from, the muscles on his back showing through in the dim light, captivating her gaze. She never took the time to check him out, for obvious reasons, but now as she took a second to look at him like a man, not like a walking nightmare or her lieutenant, what she saw was kind of pleasant.

His muscular build paired with a small waist, only enhancing his broad shoulders more. He was in such a casual outfit, it threw her off, and finding him attractive made her mad at herself.

But still, keeping her eyes off his back was difficult.

„Are you any good at poker or UNO?" Rora suddenly asked him, finally breaking the silence between them. „Considering that you probably got a good poker face, y'know."

Earning an unamused look from him, she broke out in a smile, until her gaze wandered to the half-full glass in his hand.

„Oh, uhm, you drink that, I'll just turn around," she offered, waving her hand towards the glass, suddenly feeling awkwardness creeping up on her. „I won't look."

„Okay," he nodded, that being her sign to do as she said.

Having her back to him felt oddly vulnerable, so she started fidgeting with the knife placed in front of her till she waited for him to finish. Dealing with uncomfortable situations caused her to talk nonsense.

„Y'know, before missions, the high of going to do something big never lets me sleep. In my old squad, I had a few mates that stayed up with me and we played cards until none of us could keep their eyes open. But here nobody seems to have such a fucked sleep schedule like I do."

She heard the glass cup being placed on the counter, his steps approaching her, but she kept her back to him, in case he didn't pull his balaclava back down already. Only when he took the seat opposite of her, her eyes flickered up, observing his face. His eyes were dark like the pit of space, where no star decided to shine, leaving never-ending void behind, and when their eyes met, she felt her heart flutter.

He had such an intense gaze, she felt herself getting pulled in more and more whenever she looked into them, and it started to scare her. So, instead of holding his gaze like she would usually do, she cleared her throat, and picked up her own deck of cards, motioning for him to do the same.

To her surprise, he didn't argue or called her stupid, he just picked Soap's cards up, his observant eyes running through them before he looked back at the woman sitting in front of him.

„This is neither poker or UNO," Ghost's tone almost sounded pissed off, not understanding her whole deal. She rolled her eyes, tossing the box of the cards across the table, him picking it up and running through the words in the back.

„I'm not dumb, Ghost," she leaned back in her seat, observing him with her arms crossed across her chest. „But I can't fucking understand Spanish, and the pictures on that shit are like somebody shit on it then ate it and threw it up, so I and Soap made up our own game. So, you in or not?"

For a moment, they just stared at each other. Rora quirked up an eyebrow, challenging him, when he finally nodded and picked up the cards again.

„But," Rora held one hand up, almost causing him to let out a sigh, starting to regret that he didn't go back straight to his room. „Since we have no money or anything, we decided with Soap that we'll exchange with something else."

He definitely regretted this.

„Wells-" he warned. Whatever MacTavish has agreed to, he wasn't going to make a deal with the She-Devil.

„Just let me finish!" she quickly cut him off, leaning on the desk between them, putting her weight on her elbows. Mirroring her, he leaned in closer, challenging her to back up. She didn't. „So, we're exchanging information about ourselves. If I win, I get to ask whatever I want. If you win, you can do the same."

He didn't have any questions for her, but by the glint in her eyes, he could tell that she had plenty. Usually, it was easy to tell her no, mostly because she had crazy ideas, but somehow he struggled this time.

One question couldn't hurt.

And he was positive that he was going to win.

„So, what keeps you up?" Rora asked, keeping her eyes on her cards, despite feeling his eyes on her. He didn't answer for moments, her starting to doubt that he was going to answer her, maybe it was too personal. She learned that much that he didn't like personal questions.

„Had a meeting with Laswell and Shepherd," Ghost replied, placing down a card. She tried her best to conceal her distaste. She thought Soap had shitty cards.

„About the mission?" he nodded. „Anything interesting?"

„You'll know tomorrow," he flashed her a look that said don't push further, and she didn't. She was too tired for that.

She stalled a little before she placed down a card next to his, it being nowhere close to being as good as she made it look. His attention went back to his cards. She noticed that he didn't wear his gloves, her attention fixing on the veins on his hand. He probably didn't think anybody would be awake, not expecting to see the woman reading in the small lounging area.

He had nice hands, visibly strong. For a moment, she wondered how many men and women had died of those very hands she found her new hyper fixation in.

„Thank you for the room, by the way," she spoke up again, her voice low, not wanting to disturb the sudden calmness floating around them. His eyes snapped to hers, his head tilting slightly to the side as he observed her, not really following. „It's in a place where I didn't see anybody so far. Away from others. It was you, wasn't it?"

„Yes," he answered, not even hesitating. A small smile appeared on her lips.

„You really look out for your squad, it's admirable," Rora admitted, a warm feeling creeping up on her cold heart. She wished she had similar Captains and Lieutenants in her old unit, so many things would've been different.

But she only got the sex offenders and men abusing their power. Life wasn't fair sometimes.

„Don't even mention it," he brushed her off quickly, placing another card.

„You don't know how to accept a compliment, sir," she mused, pulling her knee to her chest, resting her chin on it. „I'll just shower you with more till you accept one."

„Don't," he warned, even though his tone wasn't harsh at all. She flashed him a smile.

A few minutes of comfortable silence fell between them, as they played whatever they just made up, Rora finding a worthy opponent in him. He was strategical, much more than Soap, and the fact that she only had his eyes to read clearly didn't help her case.

Neither the fact that they probably didn't play it like it was intended to begin with, but neither of them cared.

Reading Soap was a child's game, every emotion mirroring through his eyes, the clear dissatisfaction always causing his brows to crease whenever he didn't know what card was best to place down. But Ghost was a totally different story. It was like trying to read hieroglyphics.

„What do you think about the new base?" she asked him, curious to hear his opinion. He never threw words around like she did, barely gave second thoughts to them. He answered if you asked, but he would never ask personal questions or say his thoughts out loud about something, nothing that could be offensive.

His calmness clouded her, feeling the wide awake state fading as she sat there with him, her heartbeat slowing down as she looked at him. She wondered for a second what his name could be, because she couldn't imagine anything that suited him. The Angel of Death wasn't really a name, and that was the only thing that came to her mind as she stared at him, his broad frame making the chair he sat on look small.

„It's fine," was his simple answer, his eyes flicking up to meet hers. This time, she didn't look away. „Did something happen?"

„No," Rora shook her head, a small piece from her loose bun falling in front of her eyes. She tucked it behind her ear, a heavy feeling pressing down her chest.

She almost forgot that he knew everything, and that was the reason he put her away in a room where nobody would really wander, where nobody could hurt her again. It was fine by her, it was just his attention to little details that messed with her head. Nobody ever took the time to do something this important for her.

Looking through her cards again, she didn't see that many chances of winning, but he didn't need to know that. Despite the tiredness that suddenly decided to crawl up on her, she suppressed a yawn, drawing another card from the deck placed between them, her eyes lighting up. With that card, she could destroy him easily.

And in the next round, she put all three of her cards down. There was a snake on one of them, the middle pictured a loving pair, only their silhouettes showing, and the one on the right was a dagger with some weird drawings on the back of all of them. They had the numbers 7, 9, and 1, the 7 and 1 matching the two cards placed out in front of them, those being the open cards.

The point was to reach 20 with the numbers on the cards, and at least one of them had to match the open cards' numbers. The 17 she got was the highest one yet, and because she felt like she could fall asleep right then and there, she threw her cards in, sitting back with a satisfied grin.

„What's this?" Ghost broke, confusion thickening his accent ever so slightly.

„Consider it a Straight Flush," Rora shrugged her shoulder, earning a cold look from him. „Remember the 20 rule?"

„That's bloody 17," he motioned to her cards, his frustration popping through his accent, causing her smile to widen. After annoying Soap, pissing off Ghost was her second favorite thing.

„The only thing that matters if my numbers are higher than yours," she mused, gesturing that he shows his cards to her.

With a dissatisfied sigh, he placed his cards down (well, Soap's), them adding up to 15.

And with that, she won.

„Yes!" she boxed in the air, almost jumping from her seat in the sudden rush of happiness. „You were so confident, I was 54% sure you would win, but I'm a military genius I guess."

He had to resist the urge to roll his eyes, watching as her eyes shone like a million dollars worth of diamond.

„I'm the greatest to ever exist," she breathed, staring off suddenly, getting distracted by her thoughts for a second.

Ghost let out a small sigh, leaning back in his seat as he crossed his arms across his chest, waiting for the woman to cheer herself out. It was way too late for him to comment on it, knowing Rora she would start a half-hour conversation about the perks of enjoying life sometimes. He just wasn't feeling that right now.

The creaking of the chair snapped her out of her thoughts, her eyes involuntarily finding his biceps immedeatly. The way self-respect was leaving her body by the sight of his arms flexing was pathetic. Her face started to heat up immediately when she caught herself.

That was her lieutenant, for God's sake.

But still, he had no right in being so fine sitting there like that.

„Ask your question," Ghost broke the silence, her eyes snapping back to his. She prayed to whatever god was willing to listen to her, that he didn't see her rosy cheeks.

Probably this was her only chance to ask him anything she wanted. She could ask about the mask, or his tattoo, or why he was so cold with everybody. She could ask him about his family. Did he have a wife or kids? Did he ever want kids? Or she could ask how he got into the military, her only information being that he served in SAS. Or ask about his favorite color.

But she had already chosen her one question.

„Your name," she pronounced like she wanted to say some spell, captivating his mind as she leaned back, the dim light taking her sharp features, only leaving her full lips and crystalline eyes. „Your real name."

His heart started to beat faster for some reason, holding her clear gaze with his own as he contemplated saying no. Saying that she went too far and she should mind her own business.

But she wasn't demanding in the slightest. Hope glistened next to the figments of happiness in her eyes, her emotions dancing in her irises so clearly that he could read them without much effort. She had clear intentions, only curiosity driving her, and he knew so much about her past that it was only fair that he doesn't shut her down immediately. Not this time.

„Simon Riley."

He barely recognized his own voice as he told her his name, watching her shocked expression like even she didn't expect him to really answer, and for a brief moment, he regretted it.

Then the warmest smile pulled at her lips, some weird mixture of proudness, happiness and trust shining back in her eyes, making his doubt vanish in an instant.

„Rora Wells," she reached a hand out to him, and as they shook hands, they held each others' gaze.

In a long time, this was the first skin-to-skin contact that wasn't harmful or malicious that he felt, her skin smooth and oddly cold against his touch, a shattered, cold piece of his heart starting to warm at the sight of her smile. For a moment, he let his eyes drink up her beauty.

„You should rest," he suggested, releasing her hand and standing up from his seat. The way he towered over her would've frightened her before, but not after all of this. So she just flashed him another smile, the smallest piece of his soul healing a little.

„You think I can borrow this book?" she asked, lifting the book she read when he entered half an hour ago.

„Just bring it back when you're done," was his simple answer, Rora jumped from her seat while hugging the book close to her chest.

She started to make her way to the hall her room was, or as much as she recalled, his footsteps behind her almost as silent as hers, careful not to wake anybody. She went past the corridor most of the men slept, sparing a glance above her shoulder, expecting him to go on his own way.

„You don't have to walk me to my room," the woman commented, furrowing her eyebrows at him.

„Mine's here, too."

„Oh."

Shaking off the awkwardness and sudden embarrassment that tried to creep up on her, when his steps slowed down, she turned around, seeing that he stopped in front of a door, only two doors down from hers.

„Don't be late for the meeting," were his last words, his hand already turning the handle. Rora let out a small chuckle, which almost sounded like a snort.

Of course, he would sign off with that.

„Sleep well, Simon," she sent him one last smile, turning around to head for her room.

She failed to notice the way his eyes softened at the way she said his name. Watching as her gaze found his one last time before she shut the door after herself, leaving him standing in the hallway, a storm forming inside his brain again.

long as chapter for my babes ❤️

im so proud of them for starting to open up tho

and im also proud of you!! you're doing amazing and you look fabulous doing so!

I would love to hear from you guys! about the book, or about school or anything you want to talk about!❤️