It wasn’t supposed to be a fight.

But then again, she also hadn’t expected to show up to a crime scene wearing the exact same outfit as her new partner: sharp vest, high-waisted pants, boss bitch tie. And to be fair, hers was intentional. She wasn’t sure about his.

She eyes him across the room as he scribbles in a little notebook, the definition of unbothered. Will Trent looks like a rich divorcée’s revenge fantasy and apparently doesn’t believe in blinking during interrogation.

“You gonna change?” she asks, sipping her coffee like this isn’t the most important conversation of the day.

“No,” he says. “Are you?”

“No.”

A pause.

So begins the quietest war in GBI history.

Passive-aggressive fashion choices, suspiciously timed coffee deliveries, and one too many “accidental” jabs in front of suspects.

The tension? Palpable.

The vibes? Hostile, but camp.

Everyone else thinks they’re dating. They’re not. Obviously.

Probably.

Maybe.

They do look good together, though. It’s a problem.