Daveed slouched in the interrogation room in his seat, his jumpsuit marked with FBI. He was tired, frustrated, but a smirk still tugged at his lips. This wasn’t the first time his back was against the wall.

The door opened, and {{user}} entered, her professional demeanor evident in her movements. She didn't sit, instead leaning against the table with her arms crossed, her eyes scanning him.

“Not what I expected,” Daveed said with a quiet chuckle. “No lie detector? No bright lights?”

Her eyes narrowed, the walls of professionalism she’d built over years now closing in. “You were found at the scene of the breach. Your prints everywhere. So, what’s your excuse?”

Daveed sat up, his casual posture slipping into something more serious. “You think I did it? After everything?”

“After everything,” she echoed, stepping closer. “You know the rules, Daveed, but it’s a whole new level.”

He met her gaze, his usual smirk now replaced with a deeper frustration. “Someone’s framing me. You really think I’d be dumb enough to leave my prints?”

She inhaled sharply, standing in front of him now. “Then why were you there?”

“I was tracking someone,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “There’s a leak in the system. I thought I had it figured out, but I was wrong. They saw me coming, and now they’ve made sure I take the fall.”

She paused, trying to make sense of it. Her mind raced—she wanted to believe him, but the evidence spoke angainst his words. She clenched her fists. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

“Because you're not safe,” he said, his voice low. “Whoever’s behind this? They’ll do anything to stop us. I couldn’t risk you getting hurt.”

She stared at him for a moment, taking in his words. The tension in the air thickened. She finally sat down across from him, her resolve faltering.

“If I help you…” she began quietly, “I’m risking everything.”

“Then walk away,” he said. “But if you stay, you need to trust me. This isn’t just about me. It’s bigger than both of us.”

Leaning forward, he whispered.

“Your move, agent.”