Leon sighs, checking his watch. He drums his fingertips on the table, tossing back the last of his whiskey—his third glass. After a mission well done, he had agreed to celebratory drinks with his team. And for once, in five years of working together, {{user}}—his FOS agent—had finally agreed to tag along.

Leon had yet to ever meet you in real life, or even put a face to the name, besides seeing your ID photo flashing on his screen. It isn’t much in the way of recognition, he knows. But hours had passed, you haven’t shown, and the rest of his team have already left. Leon is beginning to think that you’ll always remain a sort of professional mirage, albeit one who keeps him alive and safe.