Burke slumped against his apartment door, exhausted to his core. He needed a break from his thoughts. He needed... a drink. Glancing around the bare room, he decided it was worth the calculated risk to head to a bar.

He changed into casual attire, ditching the button-up on his pathetic mattress. Methodically switched out his identification and credit cards. Nabbed the roll of cash from where he’d mindlessly stashed it a few weeks ago. His contacts were swapped for his glasses. Burke sighed at his reflection while he pulled the front of his hair back and secured it with a hair tie. He felt so empty. Drinking would definitely help this slump he was in.

You’ve never missed before.

Burke recoiled from the thought, despite it shedding a light on his recent behavior. Shaking out of his musing, he slammed the door behind him. He quickened his pace as anger coursed through him, the sights of the city lost in his mood.

When he was far enough from his apartment to be safe, he boarded the subway, knowing which stations had minimal security feeds. Hacking wasn’t his forte, but he‘d needed the information for prior jobs. It had saved him more than once.

Keeping his head down on the train, Burke stared vacantly at his phone screen, debating turning around to sleep off his strange mood. He was almost to the bar, though. And he’d taken the effort to look casual, for once. Formal attire was Walt’s requirement; he claimed it elevated them above their competition. It didn’t mean any of the men liked it, though.

Entering the bar, he breathed in the muted scent of alcohol, determined to relax for the evening. The air was hazy, smoke swirling from cigarettes, the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses occasionally swelling above the pounding music.

It had been too long since he’d allowed himself a night out.

Finding a seat available at the end of the bar, Burke had to wait mere seconds before the bartender took his order. It was rare to see the same staff due to the high turnover rate and Burke reveled in the anonymity. There was no need for small talk or cover stories this way.

The best part about drinking in town was avoiding his thoughts. The worst part was limiting his alcohol intake. He couldn’t afford to get wasted around anyone. The results could be catastrophic.

Nursing his drink, Burke closed his eyes to take a deep breath.

“Is this a case of ‘third time’s the charm?’”

Burke jumped at the lyrical voice next to him, sloshing his drink onto the bar.

“Oh, I apologize! My intent was not to startle you!”

Suddenly realizing that he was gaping, Burke snapped his mouth closed. Then, as his senses caught up with the situation, he hastily began wiping up the spilled liquid in an attempt to regain some semblance of balance.

By the time he had a pile of soggy napkins before him, the bartender had replaced his drink and his target - why did he have to be a target? - had claimed the seat next to him.

“I’m Tyler, by the way. Tyler Goff.”

Of course, Burke had known this name for months, but hearing it directly from the man... His breathing stuttered painfully, his usual impassive front having disappeared. Why should it make a difference hearing this man say his own name instead of reading it in a file?

And then, almost as if he had lost control over himself, Burke heard his own voice emerge through the painful cacophany of his thoughts.

“Benjamin.”

He should be slipping poison into Tyler’s drink. Or at least something to incapacitate him. Maybe lure him into the restroom or alley. He had a silencer on his pistol. Hell, even some quick work with his blade would do the trick...

Instead, he’d shared his real name, causing Tyler to glow and Burke’s heart to lurch uncomfortably at the flush of pleasure that flooded through him.

How had he let this happen? How had he dropped his guard so thoroughly that his target was sitting next to him with a smile stretching his face like this was the happiest day of his life?

Burke peered at Tyler over the rim of his glass, contemplating his options.

He could easily brush off this near-stranger. It shouldn’t be difficult. Shifting away. A cold stare. A blunt rejection, if necessary. No one would have to know that he’d been face-to-face with his target tonight.

Except Burke felt a magnetic pull toward this stranger.

A pull that would only lead to death, he reminded himself.

He had been given three days to finish the job he started. Three days until Tyler had to be dead.

Because, if Tyler wasn’t dead in three days, it would be Burke, instead.

A split second too late, he realized he’d sighed out loud.

“Would you like another drink, Benjamin?” Tyler asked, brows pulling together.

Burke checked his watch, shocked by how much time had passed since he’d arrived. Had he been staring at Tyler that long? And Tyler had let him be in silence?

“One more drink,” Burke finally agreed.

“You’re not much for words, are you.”

The edges of his mouth twitched up into a smile as he nervously fiddled with a seam on his pants. Burke continued to study the man before him, curiosity burning inside. He so rarely talked to his targets - he’d never needed to before - that this seemed foreign. His heart squeezed at the thought of pulling the trigger again.

You missed on purpose.

Burke spluttered out the sip he’d choked on, almost falling off of the stool as the thought tore through his brain.

“Easy does it.” Tyler smacked his back a few times. “You alright, there, mate?”

Eyes wide, Burke tossed a few bills on the bar, backing away slowly. “I have to go.” His voice was hoarse and every muscle in his body was tensed for... something.

“You live nearby?”

Burke shrugged noncommittally.

“Come on. I have a place around the corner.”

The question, ‘when did you get something on this side of the city?’ almost slipped out, leaving Burke awkwardly opening and closing his mouth.

“I think I have some cake left, too.”

Meekly following after this man like he wasn’t a trained assassin who crumbled under the offer of free cake, Burke attempted to prepare himself for what was about to happen.

What had to happen.

The thought of the light forever leaving those bright blue eyes made him flinch, jumping again when Tyler placed a hand on his arm.

“Just another block, mate.”

That voice, the accent, they were all so familiar. This hadn’t been a problem for any of his other jobs before.

They walked up a flight of stairs in silence as Tyler rummaged in his pocket, finally pulling out a key.