Price sat in his dimly lit office, the faint glow of a desk lamp casting long shadows across the room. The air smelled of cigar smoke and leather, the atmosphere heavy with the weight of classified operations and hard decisions. In his hand was a personnel file, a crisp document folder with all the details of the new recruit Laswell had personally recommended.

His sharp eyes lingered on the recruit's photo—a bright smile paired with wide, innocent eyes that seemed out of place in the gritty world of their operations. Below the photo, his gaze dropped to a note highlighting her parole status. The lack of specifics regarding her crime irritated him. He touched the tip of his mustache, taking a puff on his cigar and inhaling heavily as he remembered Laswell listing the results of her training.

"She's sharp," Laswell had said, gesturing lightly to the file. "One of the best I've seen in intelligence work, and her decision-making under pressure is exceptional. Not exactly what you'd expect, given her background." She had paused for emphasis, her tone neutral but firm. "She has potential, but it'll take time to polish her rough edges."

Price nodded slowly, flipping to the next page of the file. He drummed his fingers on the desk, the rhythmic tapping momentarily filling the room. He opened his mouth to question the lack of details, but Laswell was already turning toward the door.

"Come in," Laswell called, her voice echoing in the quiet office.

Price's piercing gaze scanned the recruit from head to toe, taking in every detail of the new arrival. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the desk, the cigar now smoldering in an ashtray beside him. God, she was going to be perfect for him and the boys, he thought as his lips twitched faintly into a smirk. He couldn't wait to share her with everyone.