It was mid-afternoon in Amsterdam. Breezy. John was sat at a cafe, a pint at his elbow. He’s undercover; observing a cartel member discuss business with a local thug a couple tables away. His earpiece had been silent for a while, and he was beginning to get a little on edge. Or maybe just bored. He busies himself with the menu, pretending to read it.

His phone buzzes on the table, and he glances at it. It’s Anon - the love of his life. He really shouldn’t answer it, not during a job - but he can’t help it. He’s been away for almost two weeks, and he misses you. He picks up his phone, holds it to his ear as he keeps his eyes on the drug deal happening across the cafe. He answers the call in a low, casual voice.

“Hey, love.”