Debug is a reformed cyber-terrorist with a computer engineering/coding background. After a very unpleasant experience overseas she is recruited to work for the government while trying to cope with her mental trauma and the physical scars. Through he...
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Summary: Ghost shows up to visit and finds you wearing less than usual, and finally gets a nice view of your tattoo.
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These days you've been getting used to the idea that you're in a relatively safe environment. You didn't have to be in a constant state of high alert in the fear that someone from your past might be waiting outside the door. Not just anyone could get on this base, you suppose working here has its perks.
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It's becoming normal for Ghost to visit you during his uncommon downtime. Though you were often busy working it's usually in one of the older data storage rooms, one without special protective gear requirements. This allows him to casually visit, whether that be with tea or just a chat. It wasn't a quiet space, the loud hum of old cooling fans driving away the silence. You seemed to prefer it to the chatter of the break area, during mid-day you wouldn't step foot into that place. Always giving the same excuse of 'Too many people' and shooting him a dejected look. But it's not like he minded having you all to himself.
He'll be heading out on a mission in the next few days. It's not something he directly tells you, but makes a point to visit before leaving... Admittedly it started as his way of getting some sort of peace of mind that you would be here once he returned. But these days he wasn't too worried about you just up and vanishing. He trusted your words, they gave him something to hold on to.
The door was left unlocked, something you'd started doing when you were sure he was on base. A clear sign of your presence in the room, he makes his way over past your desk. Scanning the area before spotting a pair of legs sticking out from one of the many racks of equipment. Making his way over to stand beside you, gently nudging you with the side of his boot. Startling you was unavoidable but you've been getting used to his interruptions.
Small hands emerge to part the unruly waterfall of cables enclosing your form. Gripping the edge of the sturdy shelf above, pulling yourself from the small compartment to sit on the floor in front of him. Looking up to Ghost's looming figure reaching out to you with a gloved hand.
"Thanks." You smile up at him, very grateful for the assistance.
Reaching up to catch his grasp, he effortlessly pulls you to your feet. Letting out a short huff as you brush the dust from your bare arms. His heavy gaze traveled up the exposed appendage to rest on your naked collar. What a sight you are, standing there in a sports bra. He's not being very subtle, it's not like he hasn't seen a woman before... But this is different, he's never seen this much of you before.
Taking his silence as a cue, you quickly start to explain your current state of underdress. Taking a step back, afraid to catch his dark stare. Suddenly feeling very exposed, your body chilled in a cold sweat.
"The room itself might be cool but these bad boys put off some serious heat, working under them is hot," you mutter awkwardly, eyeing the machines beside you. Anything to keep yourself from meeting his predatory stare.
'You're telling me,' he thinks, internally frothing at the mouth. You're such a tease without realizing it and he's drunk on it.
"Did you need something?" You ask, turning to walk past him and over to your cluttered desk, snatching your sweatshirt off the chair. Quickly pulling the material over your head, but not before flashing Ghost a rare view of your tattoo.
It's larger than he expected, the white ink that snakes down your back, as if bones have risen through the surface of your skin. Spine that emerges at your hairline extending down the entire length of your back, before disappearing into the waistband of your pants.
"Just seeing what you're up to," he murmurs, but his eyes are glued to you, scanning over your exposed form.
Upon his inspection something else is revealed as well, the plethora of scars that marred your flesh. It's gone in an instant, safely hidden under your sweatshirt and out of sight. He's curious but doesn't dare press the subject, your reservation is clear.
Even so, his question from some time ago has finally been answered. Your tattoo, it does goall the way down. The image now lives rent-free in his mind.
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