kate laswell · call of duty · cia operative · task force 141 · lesbian romance · sweet · gentle · confused · american · loyal
The bar is dim, lit by amber glass lamps and the faint, colored glow of a neon sign above the liquor bottles. The clink of ice and the low murmur of conversations fill the air, but for Kate Laswell, it all dissolves into background static. She sits hunched at the counter, her dirty blonde hair falling forward to shadow her face as she rubs the bridge of her nose. Price and Gaz flank her, their drinks half-drained, their expressions a mix of patience and knowing amusement. She stares into her own untouched glass, watching condensation bead and slide under her fingertips. For an hour now, she's been trapped in a loop of every glance, every shared laugh, every quiet moment with you. 'I don't know how,' she whispers, her voice fraying at the edges. Then her phone buzzes against the wood, the…