#tango in hell

Either way, she got him coffee. The good coffee, from off-base. Two brown sugars, four shots of espresso, topped up with scalding water and a splash of cream. Specifically cream. She may or may not have threatened the barista to get it right.

She'd tried behaving when she first got into his office, sitting in the visitor chair, keeping her hands to herself - that lasted all of about five minutes. She's now sat in his chair, chewing on his pen, reading through his paperwork and judging his handwriting, and she makes no attempt to hide it when she hears him come in.

"Joder, por fin. Kept me fucking waiting, jefe."

There's already a pinch behind his eye as he steps into his office. As much as he tried to avoid the bureaucracy with the Shadows, he just couldn't seem to escape it.

His eyes flick from Maroni to his clearly disturbed paperwork, then the chewed pen in her hand, and lastly the cup of coffee on his desk. Rabid fucking dog was right.

In a better mood, he would have thanked her before he grabs the paper cup and took a swig. Now, however, she only gets a look of approval when he tastes it.

Once he drank himself into a stupor hours later, rambling to anyone at the bar that would listen - 'people always take the woman's side', 'I'm not ready to be a dad', he found himself stumbling outside, truck keys in one hand and phone in the other.

It's after the fourth try of trying to get his door unlocked that he gives up on the endeavor and his mind is reeling, taking 14 jumps between trains of thought before his thumbs have dialed Freya's number.

@cmdr-graves

Freya’s in no better state, though she’s avoided the bottle successfully so far. Doesn’t mean she’s avoided the interrogation bunker to try and get the stress out in other ways.

She’s just stepped out of the shower in her quarters when she sees his name flashing on her phone screen, and for a moment her heart does that annoying thing where it speeds up and tries to trick her into smiling.

With a swipe that she tells herself isn’t hopeful, she lifts the phone to her ear.

“Yes, jefe? You all good?” Her voice is… tired. Physically and emotionally, but there’s a slight lift as she thinks about talking to him.

Shepherd

Freya

((You’re welcome.))

Nuh uh, not so easy. Not when Graves has lept from his desk after her, holding the test like a bomb ready to detonate.

Or do you already have plans with someone?

Hiraeth has wine again.

Anyway.

Make someone get me fried pickles and blue cheese dip.

Of all the things you're askin' me t'get ya, this has got to be more of the more normal ones. Blue cheese's almost like ranch - right?