PREVIEW

... asional sigh of frustration or maybe not so occasional but full blown frustration.

Moreau sat at his desk, his sleeves rolled up, flipping through reports that needed to be signed, stamped, and sent to the proper channels.

Across from him, Renaud groaned loudly, rubbing his face as he leaned back in his chair.

"Merde, Moreau. How is it that we survive gunfights, betrayals, and military purges, yet I still think this might be what kills me?"

Moreau smirked, signing ...

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