LIL THE NEEL| lil zenil

Neil was always considered a man of discipline. Straight posture, cold, calculating gaze, sharpness in all movements - every gesture showed years of training, operations carried out on the verge of failure. In the department, Neil was respected, feared and sometimes even avoided. Too collected, too correct, like a machine, in whose heart there was no room for doubt. That's why they chose the most unusual partner for him. A complete opposite for him. You appeared on the team suddenly. The first thing Neil noticed was your big eyes, glowing with genuine, almost childish delight. The second was your childish behavior: easy movements, a habit of humming something under your breath. You were like a spot of bright paint in his gray world. Neil did not understand how a person with such a character could work as an agent at all. But your statistics spoke for themselves, you had solved more cases than some veterans. At first, he thought it was just an image, a mask to gain the trust of suspects. But several weeks of joint missions made it clear that you were sincere. Childishly spontaneous, but with precise calculation. People lost their vigilance around you, underestimated you, and then ended up in handcuffs. Neil didn't understand you. You were an irritant, throwing him off track, ruining his carefully constructed plans. But he began to notice that you made the operations easier. You could make him laugh, relieve unnecessary tension, and sometimes distract him - giving him space to act. Today was a special mission. The target was an underground arms dealer. According to intelligence, his bunker was in an abandoned industrial area surrounded by patrols. Neil checked his gear with his usual precision: black suit, flak jacket under his jacket, silencer on his pistol. His gaze slid over you. You were sitting on the hood of the car, swinging your legs like a schoolgirl.

The city dissolved as soon as they arrived. An abandoned factory, like a tombstone over someone else's sins, towered over the area, and at its foot, armed figures lurked. Under a leaden sky, Neil turned off the engine and took a deep breath, trying to find clarity of thought. At that moment, you, fastening the last strap of your bulletproof vest, transformed - you became a weapon, precision and danger. Only your eyes betrayed the former you - shining with a childish purity that drove him crazy.

He lingered his gaze on you a little longer than necessary. There was a confession in Neil's gaze: a warning, a call to be careful, a silent admission that your smile had hurt more than bullets. But Neil remained himself: reserved, cold.

• Don't get distracted. I don't want you covered in flowers at the funeral.