The cozy cabin that Kate Laswell had just let herself into was damn near silent, save for the sound of running water that was coming from the bathroom just down the hall. She eyed the thin line of light and wisping steam that seeped from the gap beneath the door, suddenly regretting letting herself in with the key that she had been given long ago by her dear friend.
She knew that it was probably a bad idea to drop in like this; completely unannounced and with a stranger tagging close behind.
But alas, Kate was feeling antsy and when no one had opened the door after her third round of incessant knocking, she decided to take matters into her own hands.
This was probably the first time that John Price had ever seen Laswell fiddle so nervously with her hands. The usually stoic yet kind Station Chief had always been steady and hardened from all the years of service and bullshit she had witnessed throughout her entire career, but stepping into whoever's home they were currently in was enough to make her fidget with a sense of anxiety. Price hadn't a proper clue of who they were meant to be meeting—Laswell never mentioned who they were, only that they could potentially serve to be an important part in hunting down Makarov.
He trailed close behind the shorter woman of authority as they crept through the dim lit house together. The only thing he could properly hear was the water of a shower running somewhere nearby, a fire crackling in the living room to his left, and the rustling of the snowy forest that the cabin was set in. He wanted to question why they hadn't just waited at the door for whoever was inside to greet them or why they were so secretly creeping throughout the cozy looking home.
There were a lot of questions he wanted to ask, but he knew that he wouldn't get an answer unless Kate believed that they were dignified a response.
They continued to sneak through the main hall that led from the front door to the rest of the house, only stopping when John's heavy boot creaked against a part of the gorgeous hardwood flooring. Laswell glanced back at him and the look she gave him nearly forced an apology out of his mouth for making any sort of noise, but the words were caught in his throat as he felt the cool muzzle of a gun press against the back of his head. The chilled metal rested nicely at the base of his skull where his beanie didn't manage to cover. He froze for a moment before ever so carefully glancing over his own broad shoulder to see who had successfully snuck up on him.
A woman close to Kate's height was standing there, hair dripping with water, and a dark green towel wrapped firmly around her figure. Droplets of water fell from the ends of her hair and onto the parts of her skin that the towel didn't manage to hide away. Her piercing eyes stared into his own and he couldn't help but feel absolutely entranced by her.
There was something about her that fully enraptured his mind and soul.
Or perhaps it was just the gun in his face that was causing such hyperfixation.
The pistol aimed at his head was balanced steadily in her hands. She had backed away a singular step so the muzzle wasn't pressed right up against his head anymore, making it more difficult for him to disarm her efficiently without the possibility of the weapon going off.
Not that he thought that it would actually come down to that.
At least, he hoped that it didn't actually come down to that.
"Frost," Laswell greeted kindly.
"Kate," she greeted back, not daring to take her eyes off of Price. "The fuck are you doing in my house this late at night?"
"I had a proposition for you and wanted to see if you'd be interested. Thought it might entice you enough to rethink your retirement," Kate said, putting on a smile in hopes of easing her friend.

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It Will Come Back || John Price
FanfictionLieutenant Colonel Frost had retired from the military years ago, feigning that old age and twenty years worth of service had finally caught up to her. In reality, it was the loss of her entire task force that had urged her to bring her military car...