The mission was straightforward on paper, but you knew better than to underestimate it. Despite your exhaustion, you sat at the desk in the small, dimly lit hotel room, pouring over the mission details for the third time. Every tiny aspect had to be accounted for. Perfection was your only option.

Across the room, Qrow leaned back in his chair, sipping from a flask. His sharp, crimson eyes watched you as you flipped through the same pages again and again, your brow furrowed in concentration.

“You’ve gone over it a million times,” he muttered, his voice gruff.

You didn’t even look up. “I need to make sure we don’t miss anything.”

“We won’t. You’re just obsessing now,” he replied, a hint of irritation creeping into his tone. You both had been stuck together on missions for months now. At first, the constant bickering drove both of you mad, but over time, something shifted. Tolerance, maybe. A mutual understanding, at the very least.

But tonight, you were testing his patience again.

"I know what I'm doing, Qrow. Just... let me—"

Before you could finish, you felt a soft tug on your hair, which was tied in a loose ponytail instead of your usual tight bun. You froze, not expecting the sudden contact. Qrow stood behind you now, towering over your seat, his expression stern.

"SLEEP. NOW," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.