starter call @crimegame but apparently I canāt @ you
Ā Ā Ā Ā this room smells like MONEY.
to look around it, thereās nothing there that would necessarily suggest that this quaint little office is anything but that. a room that exists just for business purposes, thereās certainly no cash laying around or obvious signs that say āhello welcome to Mr. OāBrienās money laundering hub!ā itās a feeling, the walls, the very plaster an wood vibrate with a dark energy that makes her blood thrum in all of her veins. anxiety, both the dreadful kind and the kind thatās pure excitement builds as she looks around from the chair in front of the desk.
Tesla Spencerās seen the sweat drip off plenty of criminalās shiny, red foreheads, between her childhood excursions to her fatherās place of work, to her own brief stint with the D.C. police and now working in the bureau. Sheās never been thrown into the lionās den like this before, though. Undercover. Looking for an in, and then looking to get the information her bosses need. This is her first big job despite having graduated Quantico seven years ago, so far itās been a lot of desk work and mostly ride alongs.
this is her fish, and sheās gonna fry him.
sheās not bugged, thatād be too risky with a guy like Murphy, heās thorough. She got a more than friendly pat down before being shown to this office. Sheās got something most other junior agents donāt, an eidetic memory. Thatās going to serve her well.
shifting, she takes a compact out of her pocket and opens it, the mirror cracked now in their attempts to make sure the boss didnāt have anything to worry about from this young lady coming in for an interview to wait tables. She makes a little face as she looks at the webbing across the glass, uses a fingertip to lightly smudge some runaway lipstick before sliding it back into her pocket, and sitting back in her seat with a little sigh.
Cāmon Mr. Fish, letās get this pan a sizzlinā.













