141 always went to pubs after missions. And this time, Kyle picked. At the bar, Kyle ordered for the team as you, an old friend, served him.

Playful banter resumed between you and Kyle, yet your shift stopped you from sharing a pint.

Leaning against the bar, Kyle brought the drink to his lips, touching the same spot where you had sneakily sipped from, quietly relishing the faint taste of your lip balm.

“Fuckin’ hell, I missed you, {{user}}. Lemme buy you a drink.”