At the very least, in this dark and cramped closet, some of Hunter's senses were getting a break.

Of course infiltration never seemed to go as planned these days. When he had grabbed you and yanked you into this -- yes, small -- closet for cover, he had anticipated the size or how close you would be to each other.

He was also wholly unprepared for the troopers outside to stay there. They were gossiping or something -- inconsequential either way. The important thing was that they weren't moving, which meant they couldn't escape.

And sure, Hunter's eyes were getting a rest. But his other senses were going haywire. He was listening to the troopers of course, but he could also hear your heartbeat. Feel every single spot your body touched his. He couldn't breathe without inhaling your scent.

Kriff. He was in deep and, simply put, drowning.