entering m's office - aaron feels a sense of dread. HE DOESN'T DEAL WITH SIX VERY OFTEN ( if he can help it - he's spent years forging his own identity away from his father ; not that his career was much different ). he knows what he expects. another declaration of death ( & not knowing if this time , it was permanent ). his father was good at playing dead ; but there was going to come a day when it wasn't about lying low.

sitting down , he steadies himself. IF THIS WAS WHAT IT WAS ; he'd deal with it , just like he had before. the mi5 agent meets m's gaze. despite the fact she wasn't his boss , there was a certain level of respect for all she had given this country.

PROMPTS FROM 007 FIRST LIGHT (PART 1)

IT COMES AS A TAUNT. Of course it does. Words spoken to strike straight to the core. M has long since mastered of keeping his emotions in check, but the languid, almost laissez faire attitude coming from Monty makes a nerve on M's forehead throb.

The grip around his glass tightens imperceptibly, and though Sterling has sat next to him on the empty bar stool, M does not move, nor does he even give any social inclination that he is aware of the other man's presence.

He did not just lose good agents tonight -- he lost two of his closest friends. In a vocation such as theirs, in a position such as his, it was risky business to have friends in the agency for exact situations such as this. His hand comes up to slowly take a long sip of his drink before he sets it down, watching as the beads of perspiration slowly pool onto the coaster before he finally speaks.

"Come to gloat, Monty? I would have thought that was beneath you, old boy." Finally, a half turn as M takes off his glasses, pocketing them as he faces the man that was once on his -- their side.

🦻 ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ: ▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪ ​🇫​​🇺​​🇱​​🇱​ ​🇧​​🇦​​🇹​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇾​     — ❝ Can’t turn it off. ❞ Clint doesn’t bother with the usual song and dance. He’s known Herc for a while. Been on teams with him. There’s no point pretending to be a dumb blonde as usual.

steve looks down at her offered hand before wrapping his own large calloused palm around it, his grip firm and reassuring as he shakes it with a genuine respect that shows he views her completely as an equal leader. the reality of the sentinel threat had been keeping him awake for weeks, studying maps of automated factories that manufactured those soulless, metallic monsters whose only purpose was the systematic eradication of an entire group of people. the robotic hunters represented the absolute worst of tyranny, a cold and relentless machine that didn't care about the lives, families, or futures it crushed, and he had made it clear to the rest of the team that turning a blind eye to what was happening to the mutants was never going to happen on his watch. he had seen what happens when people stay silent in the face of such hatred, and he refused to let history repeat itself while he had the strength to swing his shield.

"you don't have to thank us, ororo," he says plainly, lacking any of that formal military stiffness as he looks directly into her eyes. "we're in this together, and as long as we're here, the institute remains a safe place for your people."

releasing her hand, he pulls out a chair at the nearby console and motions for her to take a seat, noticing the strain in her posture after the violent clash they had all just barely survived.

SO HAPPY FOR U. HOPE IT STICKS LIKE GLUE ILY

It’s worth 10