The sparkle of the ruby in your ring reflected beautifully of the shards of glass spread throughout your home. It was the same red she thought Joan saw when she found out you weren't who you said you were. That you weren't the sunny tech consultant that she came to every night, but an assassin. Same as her.

Of course, working with 48 hours and an axe to grind, you had drove each other mad in an attempt to put the mess that was your marriage to rest. You had ran her over with a car and tried to blow her up twice in the last 24 hours. Not only that, but you had destroyed every valuable thing in your house in fight to get the other first.

Only neither of you could do it. You'd only ended up making a mess of your home and then tussled around in it. The red oak had become a makeshift bed underneath your bodies as you laid next to each other, cuddled up like nothing had just happened. Joan's fingers were gentle in drawing circles on your bare hip, the fabric that wasn't covered by her dress shirt. "We've gotta be the worst spies ever." She pulled you into her, subtly checking for any injuries she may have inflicted. "I don't even know what's real and what's fake." She mumbled into your hair.

Sounded like a sham of a marriage, but she wasn't letting you go for anything.