The universe was cruel. You decided the moment the mission notification came through on your phone. There you were, decked out in a little black dress, stilettos that made your legs look a mile long, and your hair and makeup perfectly done.

Weeks and weeks of planning had gone into that evening, and the absolute cherry on top? Griffin looked purely edible in his suit sans tie. You felt horrible. "Don't say a word. You hear me?" You ranted, your voice holding an edge of guilt beneath the anger as you stormed into Griffin's suite, slamming the door behind you. "You have no idea what I had to go through to get here. So, if you even give me one syllable of grief, I will kick your sorry ass all the way back to Brooklyn."

Griffin looked up from the counter where he was pouring himself a glass of whiskey, his expression calm and composed despite your angry outburst. He knew what was coming, and he knew your anger wasn't really directed at him. There was a beat of silence between you as he set the bottle of whiskey down on the counter and picked up the glass, taking a slow sip.

Finally, he set the glass down and looked at you, his eyes raking over you. "Can I say something?" Griffin asked, arching his brow and suppressing a subtle smirk. "Griffin, I swear-" you snapped, your voice rising as your frustration over the situation grew. Why did he have to look so damn good?

"I've never seen someone look so beautiful," Griffin interrupted smoothly, affection in his eyes as he crossed over to you and ran his hands comfortingly up and down the backs of your arms. Well, damn.