Send “You look like you…”, complete the sentence, and see how my muse reacts to being told that! - @dontcxckitup

Maria softened almost immediately on seeing him lingering in the archive doorway, he face instantly broke into a smile and she sighed, letting out a breath.

Vera and her team received clearance and entered the tunnel via a maintenance entrance near the train. It was not a particularly busy time of day for the Waterloo & City, which Vera was surprised to learn had only two stops less than two miles apart. This was a true commuter line. If the call had come in even a few hours earlier or later, it would have been packed to the point of disaster.

As it was, each car was less than half full and the landing party had the suspicious individual, Ms. Arielle Blanc, in custody in the cleared second-to-last car. Vera examined Ms. Blanc first, carefully searching for signs of exposure to the very virus she'd been carrying in her briefcase, but found nothing of note. In addition, Vera's line of basic questioning offered nothing of substance. "No symptoms and she's not going to crack here. Take her away," Vera ordered evenly as she stood to replace her gloves with the intention of examining the passengers Ms. Blanc had interacted with on the camera footage. Text message from V. Nair to G. Mallory, sent at 4:12 PM GMT: Suspect in custody. Ms. Arielle Blanc, bank teller. Virus confiscated and removed from scene. No symptoms apparent in Blanc. About to examine oth

The message was sent, but only by accident as Laramie tackled Vera to the floor of the train as the doors to the second-to-last car opened towards the car ahead. A group of people disguised as passengers was fighting tooth and nail to get into the second-to-last car. Through a hail of gunfire from both the apparent Group of Interest and Vera's own team, Laramie shouted at her to run.

He rolled off of her and took control of the field, though it was like shooting fish in a barrel now that the second-to-last car was seemingly locked off from the side exits. Vera made a run for the rear door, only to be side-checked by Ms. Blanc. She was a soldier, though. Not entirely unprepared for a sudden hit. There was a scuffle that ultimately ended in a gunshot wound to Ms. Blanc's knee and the grim realization that no one was firing at Vera, only her agents. Which meant that these people wanted her to be very much alive. She slipped into the last car and ran to exit at the back, reappearing outside to discover an unmanned main entrance as well as about a dozen Londoners in various states of confusion about the woman covered in blood racing down the street. Voice message left by V. Nair for B. Kindersley, sent at 4:20 PM GMT: Code U. GOI. Code U. GOI. Backup. Backup. Backup! Kindersley, fucking backup!

She hung up and turned left down an alley, hearing the shouting of her pursuers behind her. She'd have Kindersley's head for this. Or maybe this was what he wanted. Vera wiped her face with her sleeve and ducked into an Indian restaurant. There was no bathroom, but she ditched her green anorak in the bin and gave a man her number in exchange his Chelsea cap. Then she stole his unlocked phone while he paid for his food.

Text message from Unknown Number (Richard Smythe) to G. Mallory, sent at 4:30 PM GMT: I am alone on Kirby and Dashwood, being pursued by an unknown number of armed assailants. No back up. Must run. She returned the phone and headed out the door at a light jog, but she knew that she was not dressed enough like a jogger to go unnoticed for long. They were organized and they were back on her not twenty minutes later.

@dontcxckitup

Hours into days into a pair of weeks later, Julia was placing the last fork on the table, ears waiting for the bell of the timer. She'd been keeping a careful eye on the oven, even though she was simply reheating what had been delivered while she cleaned. Gareth had started guiding her through the precarious world of cooking, but she was far from making a full meal. One of his favorite restaurants had been happy enough to accommodate a drop-off of several dishes, and she'd been fairly confident she could (at least) manage to set the temperature and a timer.

The move had been hectic, but not in a bad way. It was a pair of overly polite people trying to navigate one another's space, full of elbow-bumps and laughter. They'd found space for her embarrassingly-expansive shoe collection, even after Gareth had patiently sat through Julia culling the herd. Darling man. He seemed to enjoy watching her argue with herself over the merits of each pair, though had agreed without hesitation that the pair she'd worn when they'd first met had to stay.

They were settling into a pattern; they were both early risers, and she had figured when was a tea morning, and when was a coffee one. They'd found a way to mingle their belongings without being invasive, though there was still the matter of sifting through the candles she'd brought with her. Her excuse? She was Catholic, candles were simply a part of her life. A silly reason, but as always, Gareth indulged her.

He never reminded her it was his space, and she was being granted access. He didn't need to, it was always present in her mind. Part of her was terrified of messing up spectacularly, but Gareth seemed to sense that. Like someone trying to ease a frightened dog, he was calm, gentle, reassuring. It helped that they were both direct people and the verbal fencing was kept to jokes and teasing.

The timer went off in the silence, startling Julia, causing her to give an unflattering bark of a noise before she went into retrieve the dishes from the oven. Nothing looked overdone, and she congratulated herself quietly.

Left on the counter to cool, Julia gave the food one last stern look, pulling off the oven mitts to smooth her hands down her dress. She'd found a floral dress in shades of blue hidden in her closet while moving Gareth had complimented. What better way to greet her knight - a hot meal and a pretty dress.

It was one of the quieter evenings in the bar Marcus had shown M once upon a time, so the hacker had sat himself at the piano and let his fingers dance across the keys as tired eyes watched the vibrations travel into the glass of whiskey step atop the lovely instrument. A lazy glance towards the door had him sighing. "I do take tips."

Liv cast a glance towards Gareth, noticing the buttons undone on his shirt. She bit her lower lip but looked away with a smirk.

She stretched.

“You have a lot to do. How come you didn’t shower here before dressing?”

She asked, then pursed her lips.

“Well, if I wore jeans and a t-shirt, I would look to casual, if I wore a blazer and skirt, I don’t want to be mistaken for administration, so, my uniform is both an identification, and an instruction- take me seriously.”

"I want to talk to big boss,"

Standing in the kitchen she looked out onto the window to the street below. Since everything and they both had been sent home, they didn't have to hide. They could be together like any other couple and nobody would care, they had no say. "Gareth?" she called as she saw someone standing outside, a familiar type of black car was parked across the street. Lights on.

"There's someone outside," she put the dishes down as the man now stood directly outside the house. The Ru.ssians were either arrested, dead or fled and it didn't seem like they would be seeking revenge here and now. No this was one of their men.

Ah, the MI6. Chris had heard tales and stories about the mysterious organization since he was a little boy, but little did he expect to actually walk the halls of its buildings. He'd almost say it was a dream come true, if he hadn't been preparing for a career like this since he had memory.

With his upbringing, the hierarchy and military regimen was familiar to Chris. As his boots echoed through the silent corridors, an air of pride and accomplishment filled his lungs. This is exactly where he was supposed to be, and he was more than determined to make a name for himself.

And this meeting was, without a doubt, one of the most important moments of his life. So he walked into the office after getting clearance and stood, firm and straight, in front of Gareth's desk.