I want the K (she actually doesn't but as the children say, YOLO)
[how uncharacteristic. esselyn maddox, while not lacking in verbal and some visual affection, is never physically affectionate. physical touch burns. she doesn’t like it unless necessary, unless the job requires it. it’s taken her years to control the shuddering, the flinching, to adopt indifference.
but it’s difficult to feign indifference when you’ve grown to appreciate someone. even if that someone does not feel the same.
0700 hours. this is likely their last assignment together.
they knew the terms. they knew the consequences. they aren’t strangers to risk. that’s why when the wolves are at the door, essie squares her shoulders, tugging at the bottom of her blazer as would a nervous first hire but this isn’t her first time taking on the world. her walther—the only steadfast friend in this shifting world—rests in the holster that hugs her thigh, tightening with each step. or is that just in her head?
she stops. no, don’t you dare, your steps are already faltering. you are worthless and this is the end you deserve. the one you deserved all along. turns to face her friend partner. acts on instinct.
she’s quick as she presses the lightest of kisses upon miss belyaeva’s forehead. and just like that, those years of practice, of ignoring touch, disappears. her lips sting, electricity burning her skin. she jerks her head back, suddenly wishing she hadn't kissed mariya belyaeva. donning a smile, almost as if nothing had happened, as if the tender skin of her lips didn't still burn, she inclines her head briefly.]
Go dtí an chéad uair eile, volchitsa.