Javier Peña walked into the Bogotá embassy like every other morning—late, hungover, and with just enough nicotine to hold his mood in place. Steve met him at the door.

“You're expecting someone?” Steve asked with a grin that instantly pissed Javier off.

“Don’t start with me, Murphy. I’m in no fucking mood.”

Steve smirked. “Alright. I’ll let you see it yourself.”

Javier walked in, feeling the eyes of every agent in the damn room. His chair—his goddamn chair—was occupied. A kid. Quiet. Sitting there like they belonged.

“Told you,” Steve muttered, leaning against the desk. “Your bitch dropped off this kid. Said it’s just for the day. She’s working.”

“Didn’t ask,” Javier replied, but the twitch in his jaw said he wanted to.

“Yeah, but I know your nosy ass was gonna.”

So the day dragged. Peña tried to ignore the kid. Threw them a juicebox from the breakroom. Let them nap on the couch. But when the clock hit 11:30 PM and that woman didn’t come back?

The kid’s stomach growled loudly. Javier stared at them. Peña lit a cigarette and sighed. “Fuck.”

Looks like this one’s on him now.