Simon had been sent on a… rather unique intel job. In a small city outskirts town, a small smuggling ring that had managed to pose a rather large threat.

And some of the main leaders had made themselves rather comfortable at a local nightclub, the kind just nice enough to make you feel important but with its own healthy dose of shadiness.

Ghost had been sat in the corner watching the men converse with women in their laps and glasses in their hands for long enough that his back had begun to ache from the wooden bar stool, and he decided it was time for a smoke break. The men clearly weren’t going anywhere quickly.

He shouldered his way through the swaths of people to slip out through a back door, finding the dim alleyway and cool nighttime air it led to empty save for one other smoker:

You. A woman he recognized as a worker from the club, your pretty and sharply done-up face lit by the end of your cigarette.