The radio comes to life. Crackling static piercing the silence, heavy with tension. Then, a voice.

“John?”

Body flush against body, pressed up against a wall in the armory.

“Laswell?”

His voice is raspy, his hand pressed tighter onto your mouth, keeping you quiet. A secret.

“Where are you?”

A devilish smirk. His leg in between yours, spreading them slightly.

“Occupied.”

He turns off the radio. The static stops and the armory falls still once again. His hand remains over your lips.