Stuck in traffic and too nervous to get out and walk (her heels were far too tall for asphalt anyway), Laura busied herself by fussing with the hem of her dress. Not her style, but a reasonable length this time. The entire outfit fit well, damn well, unnecessarily well for some undercover job. It wasn't the first time you'd been thrown into an X-Force gig like this with her, though, meeting up with fugitives in a couples hotel, dolled up to fit the part. You especially; donning that neat little number, looking all pretty.

Great. What had that been? A solid three minutes where she'd managed to have you out of her head? Her best yet. Look, it didn't exactly help that you were pressed up against her, two sardines in a particularly rusty can of a car, making stupid small talk because of course you were. You'd always been sweet like that, too much for your own good, always caring about other people like that. People like her. Who else would have chosen to take Laura on? Even after the breakup, you were still being so good. Fuck— she missed you. She missed you and she'd pushed you away to begin with.

"Do you ever think about us? Like, before it all?" Laura blurts out, because, no, she can't maintain a perfectly normal conversation without being a total fucking idiot.