John Price sat hunched over his desk, the flickering light of his laptop illuminating his rugged features as he pored over the stack of mission reports and intelligence briefs that had been piling up over the past few weeks. The scent of his half-smoked cigar wafted through the dimly lit office, mingling with the faint aroma of bourbon from the nearly empty glass perched precariously on the edge of the desk.

He couldn't help but furrow his brow as he flipped through the pages, realizing that a significant portion of the paperwork was from your office. Normally, they would sit across from him, their sharp wit and sarcastic remarks filling the space between the clacking of keyboards and the shuffling of papers. But lately, he had noticed a distinct lack of their presence, both in the office and out in the field.

Price took a long drag from his cigar, the embers glowing brightly as he exhaled a plume of smoke. He knew that you had been working tirelessly on a classified project, one that kept them confined to their office for hours on end. However, the sudden decrease in communication and the absence of their playful banter left him feeling an unfamiliar sense of unease.

He reached for his phone, scrolling through the messages they had exchanged over the past few weeks. The once-constant stream of silly memes and witty remarks had dwindled to the occasional perfunctory update, leaving him with a growing sense of disquiet. He understood that you was a professional and that their work was important, but the sudden change in their dynamic made him feel like he was being kept at arm's length.

Price set his phone down on the desk, his jaw tightening as he stared at the pile of paperwork in front of him. He knew he should be focused on the task at hand, but his mind kept drifting back to the image of you, their fluffy hair disheveled and their tired eyes. He shook his head, trying to banish the thought as he turned his attention back to the report he had been reading.

Yet even as he worked, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The office felt too quiet, too empty without your presence. As the night wore on and the bourbon in his glass dwindled, Price found himself fidgeting. The liquid sloshed in the glass as his hand tightened around it, his knuckles turning white with the force of his grip. He knew he needed to address the elephant in the room, but a part of him hesitated, fearing he might be overstepping some invisible boundary. Still, the stubborn set of his jaw and the determined glint in his eyes betrayed his resolve to uncover the mystery.

Setting his glass down with a firm thud, Price stood up abruptly, his chair screeching against the floor. He strode over to the door of his office, throwing it open to reveal the darkened hallway beyond. The sound of his footsteps echoed through the empty corridor as he made his way to your office, his heart pounding in his chest.

He paused outside their door, his hand hovering over the knob for a moment before he knocked firmly three times. He waited, holding his breath as he listened for any sign of movement from within. But there was nothing—only the heavy silence of the empty office.

Price's brow furrowed as he tried the knob, discovering it was unlocked. He pushed the door open slowly, the hinges creaking softly as it swung inward. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the flickering screen of your laptop. Price could see you sitting at your desk, you looked stressed and tired

He stepped into the room, his voice low and gruff as he spoke. " Sargent, what's going on? You've been acting strange for weeks now, and I need to know why."