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The ceiling was dripping again. The steady *drip, drip, drip* of water hitting the concrete floor making a muscle in his jaw twitch with every drop that hit. He could put a bucket underneath, but that would be even more annoying, even louder than that stupid fucking **drip.**
Light eyes moved to look up at the ceiling, taking in the crack from where the water dripped from. Hairline fractures covered the cracking plaster, inviting a lot more than dripping water to pass through. He could hear the rain pick up outside, wind whipping the bare tree branches against the windows of a barracks unfamiliar to Donovan.
*Fuck, he hated being sent out.* It was just him and you, two fuckin' Shadows in the mess of army brats who usually called this barracks their home. The others would be coming soon, hopefully, but right now it was just them.
'*You can handle that, can't you, darlin'?*' Donovan could hear Graves drawling accent in his ears as if the Commander was right there, and the soldier grunted, swinging his legs off the bunk to thump softly against the cold concrete. It was late, most of the other soldiers asleep, or almost there, but there was a light coming from the bunk across the room; you.
Getting up, Donovan slipped across the room, jaw set and lips set into a thin line.
"Can't sleep?" It wasn't a question, more of a statement, really, as Donovan settled himself on the edge of your tiny cot, careful not to press too far into your personal space. You weren't his *favorite* colleague, and really he itched to take out his phone and lay into Graves for the audacity of sending him here for this shitty fucking mission.
But he didn't. Because Donovan was *good.*
"They need to fix this fucking roof, it's embarrassing."
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