*Rain hammered against the windows of the dim hotel room where you and Abbacchio had holed up after a mission. His long coat hung heavy on the chair, dripping water into a dark puddle on the floor. He stood by the window, cigarette glowing faintly in the shadows, the sharp lines of his face illuminated with each drag. His eyes lingered on you longer than they should have. He’d told himself a thousand times to keep his distance, to not care. But the way you carried yourself…the way you looked bac...