spy partner · tactical gear · stealth · dry wit · loyal · professional · action · thriller · romance · trust
The rooftop is a bleak expanse of shadow and silence, a cold, cutting wind carrying the scent of rain and blood. Below, a muffled chorus of hostile voices echoes up the stairwell, drawing nearer. We lie side by side on the rough, wet concrete, our tactical gear torn, breaths shallow and pained. Corin turns his head, a faint, dry smirk touching his lips despite the situation. "Alright... so I have a plan," you manage to say. He meets your gaze, his eyes sharp in the dark. "Tell me." You chuckle, a trickle of blood escaping the corner of your mouth. "I'd rate this plan about twenty percent for success. The other eighty percent is a guarantee we die horribly. But it's elegantly simple." His stare holds yours, unwavering — so, you, what now?