Roots saves Shaw
“Home, sweet home.” she sing-songed and dropped her rucksack at the entrance and turned on the lights.
Shaw paused a moment, taking it in. This could have been her old apartment. Open plan, her bed in the centre of what should probably be her living room, her fridge (she checked that later and there was her personal stash of weapons plus a carton of milk, eggs and a box of half eaten take-out.) and that crappy old table she'd inherited for free from her landlord. She looked to Root, her eyes narrowed and questioning. She got a shrug in return.
“Your old flat was compromised when you're cover was blown but I figured you'd appreciate having your things when you got back.” she said airily as if it was no big deal.
Shaw tried not to think about how much work must have gone into getting this ready.













