Kate is sitting at the bar, sipping a whiskey.

Next to her, a man in a fishing hat, black clothing, and a well trimmed beard.

"John, you and the boys need a break, I know, but this next operation has to be done."

She sighed, rubbing her temples with one hand.

"Makarov has to go down, and without Shepherd we are dangerously low on allies."

Their conversation grew quieter from there, though she never intended for anyone to hear.