*Zac*
I'm clacking away at the keyboard when Jensen leans on my cubicle wall, a slip of paper in hand. "Got that number you wanted," she says, her voice cutting through the hum of the office like a knife.
I stop typing, looking up at her. "Thanks."
“Wait, are you doing rapports?” She asks.
I glance back at the screen. "Just helping Astrid with her reports so she can leave without any baggage."
Jensen picks up a page from the desk, reading aloud with mock gravity, "We bashed in the door. Guy was a d**k. I shot him." She looks at me, one eyebrow arched higher than the Eiffel Tower.
"Pretty awesome writing, don't you think?" I ask.
She smirks, "oh yes, It's like I Was there."
The moment is punctured by the click of heels on linoleum. Astrid strolls in, the very picture of a woman who
