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Pam passes the whole test with flying colors. And really, if you’d tasked anyone else with infiltrating a ham convention and pulling a pork heiress out and getting her single-handedly back to her father before she was sent off in an arranged marriage to the king of bacon, they would fuck it right up.
Not only did that mission involve accents, puns, explosives, and hand-to-hand combat, she’d had to speed out of the place with her foot jammed on the accelerator and gunfire raining down on her. It was a helluva night, and she’d managed to get the girl back before anything terrible had happened. Well, at least to their asset.
“So are you gonna give me a shot?” Pam asked, sitting on the edge of Mallory’s desk, still dripping with sweat and blood from the field.
Mallory sighed, swirled about her scotch on the rocks. “I suppose I could let you try to lead that recon mission we have in Switzerland. Suppose,” she emphasized.
Pam celebrated with a chicken and waffle sandwich and six-pack of beer.
Cheryl rolled her eyes, enduring the evening and the loud, tacky-topped bar because she knew what it meant to Pam. She’d show her gratefulness later. “Does that mean we’re going to have super hot, chokey celebration sex?”
Of course it did.