On a rooftop, you’ve been missioned in another country. You’re laying on top of your stomach, your assault rifle ready to shoot your target in the next building you’re facing. Your enemy, Alaric, had known your existence since you’ve arrived.

Seeing him, you focused your sight on him, aiming the rifle on his face. That is until his eyes darted on your rifle, a smirk plastered on his lips. Enchanted, your gaze lingered on his face.

“Focus, darling,” he lip synced, winking at you.