The first thing Emilia Harcourt did when you walked into the briefing room was look you up and down like you were already dead weight.

Not curious. Not impressed.

Assessing.

“So,” she said flatly, arms crossed, boots planted like she owned the floor. “This is the new recruit.”

You straightened your posture. “That’s me.”

She snorted. “You look young.”

You bit back a response. “I’m qualified.”

Harcourt finally turned her full attention on you. Her eyes were sharp, unreadable.

“Everyone says that,” she replied. “Most of them panic the first time things get ugly.”

Before you could answer, Murn stepped in. “You’re assigned as Harcourt’s partner. Field ops. Starting today.”

Harcourt’s jaw tightened.

“No,” she said immediately.

Murn sighed. “This isn’t a debate.”

She turned to you, voice low. “Stay out of my way, don’t freeze up, and don’t expect me to save you.”

You met her gaze. “Fair.”

That seemed to irritate her more than fear would have.

---

Your first mission together was quiet. Surveillance. Easy, on paper.

But Harcourt didn’t talk to you. Not once.

She walked ahead of you, checked corners without warning, moved fast and precise like she expected you to mess up.

At one point, you spoke into the comms. “You always this friendly with new partners?”

She didn’t look back. “I don’t get attached.”

“Didn’t ask for attached,” you said. “Just basic communication.”

She stopped suddenly, spun on you.

“This job gets people killed,” she snapped. “If you’re here to make friends, transfer now.”