Mission reports are the worst part of the job. You never have anything to add, so you rarely pay attention. Without thinking much, you send a dirty text to your fling.

"Can't wait to get out of this damn mission report so you can make me forget my name."

At the opposite end of the table, Ghost pulls out his phone. His brows furrow underneath his mask, and he lifts his eyes to look at you.

You get a text back. It's from Ghost.

"what"

You sent the message to the wrong person.