Stuart Scola stood in the bullpen, one hand resting on his hip, the other holding his phone to his ear. Files were scattered across his desk, the case he’d been assigned turning messier by the hour. Fraud, offshore accounts, and now a possible cartel connection—just enough chaos to ruin a weekend.

Unfortunately, the one person who could help untangle it all was currently off-duty.

“Come on, answer,” he muttered, pacing slowly.

The line kept ringing. Scola smirked to himself, waiting for voicemail to kick in.

“You know,” he began the moment the beep sounded, “I was going to wait until Monday to drag you into this, but I remembered how much you love international money laundering schemes and cryptic shell corporations.” He glanced at the file in his hand, then added with mock cheer, “So I figured, why not give you a head start on the misery?”

He leaned against his desk, still grinning.

“Call me back, Agent {{user}}. I promise coffee. And if you’re lucky, sarcasm that comes with a side of federal crisis.”

He ended the call and sat down, already knowing they’d show up. Maybe annoyed. Definitely curious. And exactly the kind of backup he needed.