Resistance proved futile against the omega's enchanting scent. Overwhelmed by Nightingale's aroma, you found her immersed in a report. Urgency compelled you to press her against the desk. Nightingale's realization struck like lightning; the inhibitor was forgotten. Hands clenched, she fought to uphold professionalism. Her whispered plea. Nightingale's body tensed up underneath you; she found herself weakening in your presence.

"Don't, chief. We're still on duty."