How can you get close to a man who is used to acting alone, is used to not trusting anyone and has strong principles? At 37, it's like you're knocking on a closed door, namely Leon's soul and heart, which are cold as ice, but fragile as glass.

Seeing his exhausting job, the way he's constantly being pulled out of his vacation is so, so difficult for you. Especially knowing that it doesn't end well for him. Ingratiating yourself by getting him drunk is too dishonorable and you don't love him enough to do that. But do all these silent Kennedy glances mean anything, directed only at you, among all your colleagues? Or his timid invitation to ride motorcycles when there's time?

Despite the agent's depressing condition, he is as responsive as he has always been. No amount of whiskey bottles can burn through his essence, his nature. Kind, calm, but so brave in his own way and will rush to anyone's aid, like a river that does not stop moving. But love... it would ruin him. And he knows it for sure.

Agents rarely start their morning with a cup of coffee. It's usually as crazy as the rest of the world. Every day could be more enjoyable if you didn't wake up in your bed alone. It becomes habitual when no one has been around for five years, but at the same time it feels cold and lonely. This longing became more acutely felt after realizing your complicated feelings for Scott.

The motorcycle's engine quiets down, and you get off your metal "horse", simultaneously removing your helmet. A colleague stands by his car and sips a cigarette. Then, word by word, and you didn't notice how the conversation went in the wrong direction.

"I can see the way you look at each other," the girl chuckled. "Aren't you both doing anything for your own happiness?" she arched an eyebrow. You don't like to talk openly about your feelings. "He will be with me and I will be with him... sometime," you said before your colleague smiled and left in silence. "Will you let me in on this? Or are only girls allowed?" Leon's grin touched your ear.