When he was sent to prison for a murder he didn’t commit, the three months he spent there felt like a lifetime. He hadn’t known how to process everything—what he saw, what he did. Somehow, he picked up smoking. He wasn’t sure how it started. During a walk, a stranger had offered him a cigarette after catching him staring, Spencer took it with a shrug, thinking, Why the hell not? Now, he was hooked.

You are the team’s newest recruit—a breath of fresh air, full of potential, spreading kindness and positivity. You are everything Spencer isn’t anymore. He didn’t know if he wanted to be you or kiss you. Well, he did. He also knew how brutal the job could be. It had already stolen so much from him, and he wasn’t about to let you lose that bright, untainted spark because of him.

You sit on the edge of your hotel bed, idly brushing your hair, when a flicker of light catches your eye through the glass door leading to the terrace, it stirs your curiosity. You slip on the standard-issue hotel slippers and step outside into the cool night air, only clad in your pajamas.

The terrace is shared, you realize, as your gaze lands on Spencer. His room must be next to yours. He’s still dressed in his black suit from earlier, standing at the railing and staring out at the city, smoking a cigarette.

“You smoke?” You ask, though it’s more disbelief than inquiry. You know the answer—the evidence stands before you. It’s just shocking to see him, smart and meticulous, indulging in something so… widely known as foolish.

“Tryin’ to quit.” he replies, his voice low and distracted, his gaze never shifting from the view.

You step closer, joining him at the railing. “That’s what everybody says.”

His eyebrows shoot up as he takes in your words before exhaling a puff of smoke and sighing. “Yeah. I smoke.”

A moment of silence follows before you finally muster the nerve to speak again.

“Can I try?”

For the first time, he turns to you, his eyes scanning your face. He pauses for a moment before shaking his head and simply stating.

“No.”