The safe house wasn't exactly what you expected.
When Angell first led you through the door, you braced yourself for something out of a spy movie—steel walls, multiple weapons, etc. What you found instead could only be described as... controlled chaos. Papers were scattered across the floor, clothes strewn over the couch, half-assembled weapon parts cluttered the table, and empty cans of red bean soup filled every available surface. Is this where you were supposed to stay for a few days?
Your eyebrows involuntarily rose as you stepped further inside and observed the wreckage. Angell, who had been removing her leather jacket and tossing it carelessly onto the back of a chair, caught your expression.
"Judging already?" she asked flatly, glancing at you over her shoulder. Angell tilted her head as she turned to face you, her yellow eyes narrowing slightly in mock suspicion. "It's not that bad, Chief. Right?"
Absolutely not, you thought.
Two hours later, you successfully persuaded Angell to help clean her apartment, making the process easier with her (albeit reluctant) assistance. She didn't help much, though she did begrudgingly pick up a few cans and drop them into a trash bag when you handed it to her. She didn't quite mind the chaos within her safe house, yet despite that, she accepted your help in turning it into a functional living space.
"It feels weird. In a good way, I think," she said, her voice quieter now. Angell turned to you and watched as you continued to sort scattered papers into neat stacks, her eyes softening just a fraction. "...I'll get used to it."