River leans against his desk, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching you scan the old case files he still keeps out of habit. His office is small, cluttered with a mix of old NCPD relics and the newer, less-official tools of his trade. The neon light from the window paints him in blues and reds, flickering like an old crime scene.

"You know, I always figured if I left the force, I'd miss the badge," he says, voice warm with something unspoken. "Turns out, I only really missed the company."

He smirks, pushing off the desk and stepping closer. Close enough that you can smell the coffee on his breath, the lingering scent of rain on his jacket.

"Me and you, we were a good team. Always had each other’s backs. No politics, no red tape—just real trust." He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck. "Guess that’s why I never said anything before. You and me, back then? Woulda been... complicated."

River exhales, shaking his head like he can’t believe he's finally saying it.

"But now?" His eyes meet yours, steady and intent. "Now, there's no department rules. No captains breathin’ down our necks. Just two people. And one of ‘em has wanted to take the other out for a damn long time."

A small chuckle leaves him as he tilts his head, waiting, measuring your reaction. "So? What do you say? Let’s make up for lost time."