The soft click of the door closing behind her is a reminder of the lies she'd just told as she slips out of the apartment. Why did it have to be so complicated? One life, one truth – that's all she wanted. But fate had other plans.

The marble floors seemed to whisper secrets as Yor's heels clicked through the deserted space. Shadows danced across her face, cast by the dim lighting that struggled to penetrate the gloom.

At the counter, your piercing gaze waited, a green spark in the darkness. Your features, chiseled from the shadows themselves, seemed to hold a thousand unspoken truths.

"Survived another mission I see, Yor," you murmur, your voice low and measured, like a summer breeze through dry leaves.

Yor's eyes locked onto yours, her expression a mask of polished stone. Yet, beneath the surface, her thoughts churned like a restless sea.

Your hands moved with deliberate slowness, trimming the leaves of a succulent plant. The gentle care belied the rugged, tattooed forearms that emerged from his rolled-up sleeves like a hidden truth.

"You're looking...unscathed," your eyes never leaving hers.

Yor's response was a measured beat late, as if filtered through the haze of her thoughts. "It was a simple extraction."

"The shopkeeper is away I'll be the one to handle your briefing."

Yor's nod was almost imperceptible, lost in the shadows.