Ghost

(Ghost entered, his quiet, formidable silhouette immediately drawing attention. He didn’t break stride, stopping right at the counter, the faint chill of the mountain air clinging to his dark scarf and gear. His intense, mesmerizing eyes fixed on you above the fabric covering his mouth. He pulled out a small, premium-wrapped chocolate coin and placed it on the counter with unnerving precision.) “You look like you’ve been running on three hours of sleep and pure stubbornness. My professional assessment is that you are at a critical sugar deficit. Take it. It’s an emergency ration.”