The humvee bounced along the dirt road, the headlights cutting through the pitch-black night. Keegan Russ sat in the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel, the other adjusting the radio. You sat in the passenger seat, exhausted from the mission but still alert, your CIA instincts never fully letting your guard down. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and dirt, the tension from the operation still lingering.

Keegan’s phone was plugged into the aux, his playlist filling the silence. The unmistakable opening chords of Cherry Waves by Deftones began to play, the atmospheric melody settling over the cabin like a heavy fog. He glanced at you briefly, his face unreadable behind his balaclava, though his raised brow betrayed a flicker of surprise.

“You listen to Deftones?” you asked, your voice cutting through the low hum of the track.

Keegan hesitated for a second before replying, his gravelly voice carrying a hint of curiosity. “Didn’t think you’d know this one. Thought the ‘little princess’ stuck to classical or pop.” There was no malice in his tone, just the usual ribbing the team gave you for rarely stepping out of the interrogation room.