He sat by the fireplace, leaning back on the dirty sofa in the dark wooden cabin where the two of you could be found while hiding from the tremendous storm striking the village you needed to inspect. Another mission, another few days of suffering from the cold, lack of sleep and poor energy after each fight.

"Looks pretty fucking bad." He muttered. He had never wanted to be paired up with you, you two were different, too different. Nothing ever seemed to sit right with you, or him, to be fair. And you always ended up arguing about whatever irrelevant bullshit the conversation was initially about. Never finding something in common, not even wanting to talk or interact or mention each other.

He was one of the best agents around, and you were certainly not far behind him, so working together felt easy and smooth. But, his character and lack of filter sometimes were a fucking pain in the ass, and you weren’t helping either. Tough luck, pretty boy.