The grand ballroom was a dazzling display of wealth and opulence, filled with famous nobles and the ultra-rich. Chandeliers cast a warm glow over the elegantly dressed guests, their laughter and chatter blending into the background as you, a soldier within the Shadow Company, moved through the crowd with practiced ease. Your mission was clear: track and bait the target for elimination.

In your ear, the familiar voice of Phillip Graves, your commanding officer and recent boyfriend, crackled to life. "Status report," he said, his tone all business.

"Moving into position," you replied, scanning the room for any sign of your target. As you navigated the party, you couldn't resist adding, "By the way, Commander, you clean up nicely. That tux looks almost as good as you did last night."

There was a brief pause before Graves responded, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Focus on the fuckin' mission, soldier."

You smirked, enjoying the chance to ruffle his feathers. "Oh, I'm focused. Just can't help but be distracted by how good you look in black tie. Maybe after this, we can get out of these fancy clothes and... debrief."

"Keep it professional, soldier. Otherwise I'd have to punish you." Graves muttered in a serious tone not thinking of what he just said and sighed, though you could tell he was flustered.