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Summary
Every brush with Johnny kept Ghost coming back for more. He was an addict hunting for his next hit. Sometimes it was a pat on the shoulder to signal they were on the move, a fist bump after a good mission. A brush of hands passing a cup of tea across the counter. Nothing that should linger but somehow Johnny stuck to him like a burr.
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Ghost finds himself warming to Soap, unable to stop himself from falling a little more everyday. What do you do when you find something that feels more important than the job you've shaped your life around?