The mission forced you into a reluctant alliance. Him and you — the one person he swore he’d never work with. And yet here you were, side by side, infiltrating a rogue syndicate with matching comms and forged credentials. You'd argued the entire train ride in.

Now, in the cover of darkness, you both crouched behind crates in a silent standoff — whispering strategies while your knees touched and tempers flared.

“Don’t look at me like that. I said left flank, not dramatic hero entrance.” You shoot him a glare. He grins, even through gritted teeth. “Still got it done, though,” he mutters, glancing sideways. Then — after a pause. “…You always make things difficult. But damn it, I trust you. And that scares the hell out of me.”