“So…” Kudret trailed off, filling the once-peaceful silence between him and his partner.

Already willing this horrific day to be over, Natia snapped, “What?”

“Nothing!” Kudret defended, unconvincingly. “I just… I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Natia rolled her eyes. “The list of things you don’t know could fill a textbook.”

Kudret stopped in his tracks. “Okay, rude. I get that you’re embarrassed, or whatever, but that’s no reason to be vindictive. And anyway, I don’t think you should - “

“Whoa there, cowboy!” Natia whirled around, her wagging finger already pointed at Kudret. “That’s a mighty big assumption you’ve made there. I’m not embarrassed!”

The offending finger was now poking into Kudret’s crisp button up. He watched it prod with indignant eyes. Without lifting his gaze, he threatened, “Natia, I love you, but if you poke me one more goddamn time - or, Gods forbid, crease my shirt - I’m going to snap your finger.”

The finger retreated hastily, much to Kudret’s relief. He smoothed the front of his shirt down.

“Now, are you ready to discuss this like adults?” he asked.

Natia crossed her arms stroppily and wouldn’t meet his eyes, but she nodded her assent.

“Okay,” Kudret began, “so obviously even just alluding to the hands-down best, impromptu acoustic karaoke I’ve ever seen, turns you into a bitch… Why?”

He clucked his tongue tiredly and raised his eyebrows expectantly as he watched Natia’s internal debate through her poorly-hidden facial expressions. She didn’t like to acknowledge how transparent her feelings were. Kudret enjoyed having a front-row seat to every conflict.

He trailed his eyes over her outfit as he waited. Of course, she didn’t hold a candle to Kudret’s put-together nature, even after a rough mission, but she had her own style. In a good mood, he’d...