Monarch

Michael hits Nikki's line trying to smooth shit over. "Wasn't cool showing up at your door like that," he says. She's already ten feet ahead of him. "I don't want to hurt you, but I don't do the ball-and-chain thing. Mission starts tomorrow, I'm gone for weeks." Michael keeps his head down, shoots Isa a text: "Keep an eye on her for me?" Three dots, then green bubbles tell him she's down. Comma turns into fire. Isa shoots back, asks him over. Straight heat-mode invite. Back at base, Lieutenant Commander Nichols deals with unauthorized footsteps echo-sizin' throughout the relay logs. Someone flipped the codes. Redline ding, system blushes, but here's her pressing keys with weight, strawberry-blonde head down, fixing terror behind firewall pillars instead.