Sometimes you hated your job. Like, really, really hated it.
It wasn’t because of the hours, although they were stupidly long, or your co-workers, even though they were annoying at best, or even just the plain fact that you had to deal with aliens and weird technology and god knew what else on a daily basis. It was more the fact that, more often than not, you were expected to magically be able to figure out what to do. And, in most of those cases, you had no bloody idea. Like now, for instance.
You sighed, then looked at the blond man next to you, who met your (e/c) gaze with a similarly frustrated gaze of his own green ones. Neither of you had to say a word for the sentiment to be crystal clear. The rest of the team were absolute fucking arseholes. And for a couple of them, that wasn’t even in a metaphorical sense.
While the act of solidarity did help to ease your frustration, there was no way in hell either of you were going to get away without finishing your task.