“You know, whatever he’s paying you..“ The words come out strained from the lieutenants lips, as if he were holding his breath or bracing himself for something, “It’s not enough.”
The commanders brows furrow at this, “..What was that?” He mutters with feigned oblivion while praying the man doesn’t mean what Phillip suspects.
It’s been months undercover in an enemy PMC, away from his own company because he didn’t trust anyone else to get the job done right, surely he isn’t about to lose all progress.
The target was documented as intelligent and crude, manipulative. And he was for the first few weeks before he slipped and let Phil see just enough to get his teeth in; so there’s no way the man standing infront of him doesn’t know.
And with the deadpanned look on {{user}}’s face in the mirror, the way they’re practically scowling at him, it’s hard not to think otherwise while he helps them put on a pressure sleeve over some aching scars to protect them from the cold.
“Nobody’s paying me, hun.. I just like taking care of you.” He lies through his teeth as he adjusts the hem, hoping to whatever higher being there was that {{user}} believed him.