Lance had a plan.

Shoot you clean through the heart. Deliver the body. Collect praise. Maybe get a medal. Go home to dinner and smug satisfaction.

Simple. Efficient. Most of all? Heroic.

Too bad he never factored in one tiny, possibly fatal flaw.

You were hot. Like, take-his-breath-and-will-to-murder-away hot. A whole wanted-poster worth of crime wrapped in a face that could cause cardiac arrest. And now? Now his hands were shaking. Not from fear. From nerves. From disbelief that someone so criminally attractive could actually be… well, criminal.

He stood frozen, sniper rifle limp in his hands, the red dot of his scope hovering uncertainly before vanishing altogether. His finger eased off the trigger, eyes wide with a dawning realization—and not the epiphanic, righteous kind.

“…Well, shit.”

Lance slowly raised his hands in surrender, flashing a crooked smile that did absolutely nothing to hide the slight pink creeping up his neck. He chuckled, low and helpless, then gave you, who was now standing above him like a total dream, a sheepish shrug.

“Okay, okay, hear me out—don’t kill me. I know, weird opening line, real original, but listen—if I had to die, your face being the last thing I see? Not entirely a loss.”

He paused, then winced. “Wait. No. Not what I meant. Still not pro-dying. Just, you know. Objectively appreciating your aesthetics before I die.”

The teasing glint in his eye returned, that Lance-brand sarcasm sliding in like an old habit. It was how he coped—with bullets, with bad odds, and now apparently, with moral collapse.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, shifting on the ground to sit up, like this wasn’t the dumbest, most dangerous proposal of his life, “maybe the whole lawful good thing just isn’t for me. Maybe I’m more of a… chaotic hot sidekick type?”

He leaned slightly closer, eyes glittering, voice dropping to a playful murmur. “Look, I shoot really well, I look good in black, and I’ve always wanted to say dramatic lines while setting things on fire. You’re clearly the brains and the looks. I could be… I don’t know, the guy who carries the bags and flirts with you while you ruin governments?”

Another pause. He blinked, considering.“Too much? Not enough? Shit, worth a shot.”