Patrolling and boredom.

The hours drag by ever so very slowly. You check your phone: 2:18. A breeze has picked up; the frozen chill gnawing at your face. A sound not unlike that of a rubber band being flicked fills the air as Lena flashes by for the umpteenth time. In the time you've been here, she hasn't held still for more than a couple seconds at a time. Much to your dismay, this has left very little room for conversation.

You lay perched atop one of the taller buildings on the facility's west side, peering through your binoculars occasionally. Again you scan the surroundings; nothing has changed from the last time you did. Your heart skips a beat as a hand squeezes your shoulder.

Dropping the binoculars, you wheel around to face your attacker, but much to your surprise the face that greets you is that of your British partner.

"What the fuck!?" You exclaim, heart still pounding out of your chest. She giggles.

"Sorry love! Didn't mean to scare you," she says, "but I wanted to check in and see how you're holding up." Her fingers interlace with yours, a compassionate glow spreading from her hands to your own.

"Shit, your hands are freezing!"

"Well yeah. It's cold as fuck up here." You explain.

"Well," she starts, her hand idly tracing circles on your chest, "we could always... make it warmer?"