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Post by Ray on Mar 4, 2017 17:55:54 GMT -7
They cram into the same car, Barton's knees practically shoved to his chest and Asya pressed into the door with a grimace on her face. Slowly, carrying two dead bodies and a crate full of stolen weapons, Barton makes his way out of the alley and onto the street. With the park in the way, they have to make a much larger circle towards the harbor, carefully avoiding any major streets or congested areas, which is difficult in a city like New York. By the time they reach the harbor, all Barton wants to do is go back to the bunker, pour a bath, and drown himself in it.
They climb out and wipe their fingerprints from everything meticulously, throwing the leftover rag onto the bodies in the backseat. Barton manages to find a tire iron sitting on top a crate by the dock, and uses it to jam down the gas pedal. With one final push, it all goes sinking into the dirty water with the hundreds of other bodies no doubt piling up down there.
Barton watches as bumper sinks below the surface, bubbles rising to the surface and water swallowing it whole. Asya comes to stand next to him, her hands pressed into the pockets of her jeans, her mouth drawn in a small frown.
"It was awful working with you." Barton comments, his voice flat and even.
Asya says nothing, but decides to turn away back towards the quinjet. As she passes, she pats his chest twice with a heavy hand.
"Ow." He mutters, rubbing the sore spot left behind.
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Post by Snowglobe18 on Mar 4, 2017 18:17:17 GMT -7
The drive back to the harbour was actually uncomfortable so she was glad when they got to harbour and out of the car. Emily helped wipe her fingerprints away from the trunk especially when she was the original person to have opened it. Even she knew that DNA stayed on things for a very long time. So wiping it down was the best thing to do. She watched as the car went under the water and she put her hands into the pockets of her black tactical pants. There was a beer waiting for her when she got back to the bunker.
Emily headed back to the quinjet while Barton and Asya were talking to each other, she found herself a seat. There were loads of them, before pulling it down and sitting down with a sign. If she knew how much patrols were fun then she would've put her name forward before. Mostly it was Tripp and Barton. But if she had known what happened then she would've been going on patrols before now. She leaned her head back against the bar behind her and closed her eyes. She didn't know what time it was but she guessed it was late.
Asya came onto the quinjet first before Barton and they both took their seats before they were heading back to base.
When they finally got back to the bunker she was happy to be back. It was nice going out on patrol but now she was dying for a beer. There were loads in the fridge in the kitchen. Emily pressed the button for the living quarters floor before leaning back against the wall. She put her hands into her pockets once more and started to think about having a beer and then having a shower or something. When the door of the elevator opened she leaned off the wall and walked down the corridor and found the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge.
They had lost this one, in fact she wasn't sure just how many of the others Barton had lost if he had lost any of course. But someone really didn't want them talking to people like Barton, Asya or even Emily. She moved her hands from her pockets and pulled the fridge open. The beer calling out her name.
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Post by Ray on Mar 4, 2017 19:42:34 GMT -7
Returning to Camp Lehigh was both a relief and a hindrance. As much as he wanted to crawl into bed right now, a first in weeks, he also wanted to get as far away from the inevitable shit storm waiting for him inside. This mission couldn't possibly have gone any worse, and it was supposed to have been cut and dry.
He really needed a drink.
"Asya." He says as the hangar doors close. Emily has already disappeared, no doubt wanting to get far away from the pair of them and their quick tempers, but Asya pauses in her escape just at the open doorway, her back to him. A little reluctantly, she turns back to face him. Her arms cross defensively over her chest, exposing a string of Cyrillic text tattooed along the outside of her forearm. "Look," he begins, but pauses to gather his thoughts, never really sure how to talk to her. He exhales a breath though his nostrils. "I acted like a dick out there. Not saying you were in the right but...neither was I." He attempts, leveling his gaze with hers. He swears he can see a small smile ticking at the corner of her mouth. "Next time- if there's a next time, I'd like it if we actually worked together rather than fighting the whole time. You actually have good instincts and...obvious experience even if it isn't how I do things. So maybe we can find common ground." He holds out a hand as a peace offering, giving her a flat smile as well.
She seems to regard it for a moment, leaving Barton's hand hanging in the air.
"Vy ne tak uzh plokhi." She finally replies, amusement in her voice and the smile clearer now. She's actually pretty when she smiles, a small semblance of real emotion making her eyes seem less cold. But rather than shaking his hand, she turns back towards the door and down the ramp. Barton drops his head and scoffs.
"What does that mean?" He calls out after her.
"It means you're a terrible spy, cowboy." Asya yells back to him over her shoulder, and yanks open the door to the staircase leading down.
Barton rolls his jaw and slumps his shoulders a little. "That's it. For real this time. Never helping Russian youth again."
The bunker is quiet when Asya finally reaches the second floor, most of the lights dimmed or off this time of night as the rest of the rag-tag group of former agents sleep restlessly in their rooms. She slides her key-card into the back pocket of her jeans, releases a slow breath, and continues down the hall. Her first thought is food, the idea of sleeping not even crossing her mind. As soon as she sees Emily standing in there, grabbing a beer, she almost considers turning back. But hiding from Emily now wouldn't do much good. So she walks in anyway, but says nothing to the other blonde woman. She rubs a palm against the long scar slicing diagonally across her neck as she rummages through the cabinets, pulling down a box of off-brand cereal and a bowl.
She only ever comes here this time of night -- too impatient to wait for someone else to cook food and too intrinsically different than anyone else to want to tolerate pestering questions and small talk. And she knows they'd have them.
Who are you, why are you here, where are you from. The same questions Barton hasn't stopped asking since the day he cornered her on a train headed for Canada. The same questions anyone ever asks.
She pours milk into her bowl, sticks a spoon into the cereal, and carries her and her two a.m. meal back out of the kitchen, intent on finding somewhere quiet and empty to eat.
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OVERWATCH
Mar 4, 2017 20:06:22 GMT -7
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Post by Snowglobe18 on Mar 4, 2017 20:06:22 GMT -7
Emily was glad for the quiet of the kitchen. Tension and emotions had been running high today and if she was honest she actually didn't want to answer questions on how the patrol went. How could she answer that it had turned shit quickly but a part of her had enjoyed it? Had been too happy to get out of the bunker? Maybe people wouldn't blame her.
She took a big drink of the beer, the coldness actually enjoyable on the back of her throat, when Asya walked in. She watched the young blonde grab some food, even if It was cereal, then head out the kitchen. No doubt hoping to get away from her. Emily didn't feel like speaking anyway so there wouldn't have been much from her, if anything from her. But off Asya went out the kitchen. "I am so glad I wasn't like that" she muttered to herself. But then again at Asya's age, or at least what she thought it might be. She was learning how to fight in Japan. She was learning Japanese and the ways of revenge.
Emily finished up her beer, putting the bottle in the trash can quietly, before heading out. She headed in the direction of the bedrooms. More than anything she wanted to get into bed. Whether Caesar would be there would be another thing. She hasn't seen him all day. She came to the room that she ended up in most nights and used the key card. Emily was tired or at least just needed to get into bed. She quickly changed and got under the covers. Tomorrow would be here too quickly but at the moment she would rather it come after sleep than from sitting up most of the night.
The bunker seemed quiet and that was the most perfect timing for Teresa to slip out of her room. After the almost earthquake earlier she had returned to the gym but after a while ended up back in her room after a shower.
She was tired, there was no doubt about that but she never wanted to close her eyes as she would often dream about the fall. About Steve dying live on tv. Of Hunter coming out and saying that he was with hydra. She would dream of telling Graeme that he had to leave the country, that she needed him safe.
At that thought her hand flew up to the rings around her neck on a chain. It was the only comfort she really had. When she was lost Graeme last time she had refused to eat but this time it was sleep. Needing to always be doing something. To always keep her mind active even if every bit of her body wanted to sleep. To rest, to just let her mind shut down for a little while. But she never did.
It definitely was quiet, she had seen Emily heading towards her room but mostly the hallways and no doubt the kitchen was quiet. The lights were dim so that meant the living quarters were resting. She pushed her hands into the pockets of her sweat pants before carrying on along the hallway. This is what she did most nights when she never wanted to sleep.
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Post by Ray on Mar 4, 2017 20:37:47 GMT -7
Asya settles down onto the couch in the recreation room, feet tucked beneath her and bowl balanced in her lap. The large TV looms to her left upon the wall, hardly used save for when the others were desperate and starved for entertainment. But most days they seemed too scared to face the outside world, too frightened of the reminders of how they ended up here. She'd see them tempted, flipping through the channels in search of something worthwhile when they'd land on the same story played on the same stations, the faces of Hydra splashed across the screen sometimes coming in the faces of their former companions, and abruptly the remote would be tossed carelessly to the side as they stomped from the room. Asya could sympathize. She's lived a long life of lost friends and stolen homes, but when she was a child running from Hydra she had no secret bunker, no locked rooms to keep her hidden from the world, no net of safety.
She had herself, her fists, and an army of shadowy faces searching for her in every crack. Ignoring the world around her was impossible.
She leans back against the couch cushions and spoons cereal into her mouth, dropping her eyes from the black screen of the TV and to her bowl.
Admittedly, this way of hiding is much nicer than hers. At least here she won't starve for days at a time or sleep on cold porch steps. Maybe James did her a service by sending Barton chasing after her, but like freeing her from the cage in Siberia, it only seemed like delaying the inevitable.
Her fingertips press at the scar once more, kneading it to soothe out the thoughts.
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Post by Snowglobe18 on Mar 4, 2017 21:08:53 GMT -7
The bunker really was quiet, there were nights when she would bump into someone. Maybe Simmons coming back from Sci-Tech upstairs or Emily heading towards the rooms or even Fitz leaving the kitchen. But it seemed like tonight things were quiet. From what she had heard Tripp hadn't gone on the patrol so he had been free, she had caught a glimpse of him and Simmons in the kitchen when she left the gym and headed back towards her room.
Barton had asked her if she wanted to go on the patrol but she had flat-out refused due to the fact that she didn't want to do any damage, but most of all she didn't want to see the damage that was left behind in the outside world. Didn't want to step into the outside world because she knew that people she cared about wouldn't be there. At that thought her throat got tight but she continued to move through the corridor.
Teresa came to the rec room and she saw that there was already someone sitting on the couch. The only two blonde people she knew on this base had been Emily, but she had headed into her room, and Barton. She hadn't seen him since the oval room incident. So it was odd to see another blonde sitting on the couch. But she headed in anyway.
When she came to the couch she saw it was a girl, young maybe a little younger than her? Teresa couldn't see her face properly but she was definitely young. "I'm sorry I didn't know anyone else was in here" she admitted before looking back towards the door. She never came in here to watch TV, always too afraid of what she might see. It was bad enough that everyone treated her like she was a bomb that was going to go off. Hell that was even how she saw herself, but if she saw Steve on the TV then she was sure he would completely lose it.
"I'll leave you too it" she said and then turned to leave. It was probably best if they weren't in the room together anyway.
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Post by Ray on Mar 4, 2017 21:27:58 GMT -7
She hears the voice before she notices the new figure in the room, having willingly lost herself in thoughts that weren't so grand. By now, thinking about her childhood was less a traumatic experience and more just a fact of life. She survived against all odds. That's all that mattered. Wallowing too deep in poverty, homelessness, and violence stealing each moment would only make her the ghost that her father is. The ghost of a broken, tortured person still trying to latch on to a life that wasn't meant to be. Furrowing her dark brows, Asya lifts her eyes from the indiscriminate spot she'd been staring at to the woman who'd walked in. Her fingers drop from the scar at her throat.
She recognizes her, the one from the meeting this morning who had stormed out with an accompanying quake reverberating beneath each step. Biting down onto the mouthful of cereal still in her mouth with an audible crunch, Asya curiously scans the woman over, taking in the dark bags under her eyes, the strange metal bracers around her forearms, and her tense poise.
It only takes the woman a single look to decide to turn and leave, and Asya just lets her blue eyes follow for a second as she swallows down her cereal. "You are the one who can manipulate vibrations, yes?" She asks, dipping her spoon back into her bowl but not looking away from the woman's back. "The one everyone tip-toes around?" She lifts another spoonful to her mouth casually, as if she'd asked her if she likes the color red instead.
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Post by Snowglobe18 on Mar 4, 2017 21:44:31 GMT -7
Teresa was going to hurry from the room when the blonde haired girl spoke to her. She hesitated for a moment. She could stop and answer those questions or she could just leave the girl to it. It seemed like she wanted to eat in peace because if not then she probably would've stayed in the kitchen. Some nights people would walk in an out, whether it was to get a drink, bring a plate in or even just to chuck some rubbish away. The kitchen was always the busiest thing in the bunker.
She pushed her dark eyebrows together before she turned and looked at the girl. Teresa was startled when she saw the features, she was looking at someone familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. It was like looking at a female Bucky but that was impossible, right? She hadn't seen Bucky since before Christmas, maybe even in November or whatever but here was a girl who looked like him.
Teresa then remembered the questions that she had asked her and she bit on her lip. She dropped her eyes down to her arms and remembered that she had the protection on that Jemma had made her way before the fall of SHIELD. It was the first time that she had turned up with the bruises, the first time she had ever cried in front of her team mates because she was in so much pain. The first time she really accepted help when it came to her new abilities. Slowly and finally she looked back up at the girl when she pushed that thought away from her head. "I guess I am" she admitted before pulling her lip in between her teeth.
It was no secret in the bunker that she could make things shake. That if there was one wrong word from someone, like Sam earlier, then she could make the room shake just from anger. She had told everyone to stay away from her and they had done it. They had left her to her own devices, albeit from when she saw people in the hallways or in the gym, she was mostly on her own. Barton had come to see her to ask if she wanted to go on a patrol and she had sent him packing but most of the time no one talked to her so she guessed they tip-toed around her.
"I don't ever remember seeing you anywhere on the base" she admitted.
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Post by Ray on Mar 4, 2017 22:09:36 GMT -7
Asya tips her chin upwards but says nothing, continuing to chew instead. Her gaze drops to the bracers once more, wondering if they built those to reduce the effect of her powers. It would make sense, considering how weary the others seem of her. Like she's about to break any second. Asya knows how that feels, to be treated like a fragile explosive.
Her eyes lift upwards when the woman talks, but it isn't much of a question. More an observation. Asya swallows down her last bite, and leans forward to set the empty bowl onto the squat table in front of her. "Easier to avoid people if they don't know you exist." She replies, sitting back against the cushions. "For spies, you agents are very determined not to notice what's happening around you." In a small tease, but she says it with a straight face and a mirthless voice. Because, frankly, it's true. In the two months she's been stuck in this underground bunker, only one other person actually noticed her lingering presence enough to root her out. The others simply ignore food that goes missing, the extra toothbrush in a shared bathroom, the quiet click of a door closing in an empty hallway. Their focused ambivalence on Hydra and each other has made it almost easy for her to become nothing more than a shadow. Hiding is also much easier when you remember there's an entire Army base above their heads, hidden by trees and ten square miles of nothing. She's the only one who's been brave enough to go upstairs to the ground level and explore what remains of Camp Lehigh.
"That will probably change though." She admits. Now that Emily has seen her and knows what she can do, hiding won't be as easy as pretending not to even exist.
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Post by Snowglobe18 on Mar 4, 2017 22:27:35 GMT -7
Teresa didn't know what to say when she spoke the first time but that didn't mean she didn't take her eyes off of her. She couldn't help the slight movement of her lips into a small smile when she was sure what she said after was a tease but the expression hadn't changed on her face. It was almost like Teresa had imagined her saying that.
She looked around the room finally before dropping her eyes back to the girl once more. "Sometimes it's easier not to look at what's happening around you" she said and nodded slightly. They were all focused on Hydra and trying to stay safe while the world outside of this bunker went to shit. She might not have wanted to watch the TV but that didn't mean she didn't have ears. The odd conversation as someone walked by, the anchors on the TV. All saying things that they all knew well enough without someone having to repeat it so many times that you could match it word for word coming out of different anchors mouths.
"Maybe but with the tension so bad at the moment, it probably won't be for a while if it does change" Plus she wasn't the only one to eat when no one else was looking. Teresa found it easier to cope that way, easier to eat without being tensed up. Without having to look over her shoulder all the time to see if someone would walk through the door, she would grab food early in the morning before anyone was up. It was weird eating alone but it's something that she had decided to do. She would just be coming out of the kitchen when Fitz would walk in or she would hear Jemma talking to one of the other agents in the bunker. That was when she knew that she would keep out of other's way.
Like the blonde haired girl sitting on the couch had said, they tip-toed around her so they probably didn't expect anything less from Teresa. They all had other things to worry about. "Do you walk the corridors at night too?" she asked and then hesitated for a moment before she took a seat on the couch but made sure there was a gap between them. She was in pain, just because she had the metal... whatever it was Jemma called them, things on that didn't mean she still didn't feel the bruises underneath. These things would help her heal and it would restrict her abilities but sometimes it restricted her arm movement too. So she probably looked like a robot from Terminator or something.
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Post by Ray on Mar 4, 2017 22:47:30 GMT -7
Asya's eyes follow the woman as she moves forward to sit on the couch beside her, a very carefully planned space remaining between the two of them. For someone so cautiously maneuvered around by the rest of the bunker's inhabitants, she does not seem so explosive. Sad, heartbroken -- yes. But the timid way she asks her the question and the soft smile that momentarily held her mouth made Asya think she's more scared than anything. Either of herself or Hydra, she isn't sure. Perhaps both.
"Sometimes." Asya replies, shrugging one shoulder. "But most nights I go up." She points a tattooed finger to the ceiling, indicating the real world lying floors above them.
While certainly not the woodlands of Europe, it is reminiscent of home up there. Old, dilapidated buildings slowly being reclaimed by nature, the smell of fresh blossoms, the cry of hunting owls. Unlike the city, the stars are so bright here, draping the entire camp in pale blue light, making it absolutely unnecessary to carry a flashlight with her. Wildlife have made homes of everything no longer in use, so seeing foxes sniffing around the old clubhouse and cafeteria is a nightly occurrence. Some nights she just sits on the old roof and listens to the breeze. She likes to try to imagine what this place once looked like, when it was busy with the anxiety for a different kind of war.
"Less likely to run into some other wanderer up there."
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Post by Snowglobe18 on Mar 4, 2017 23:01:34 GMT -7
Teresa looks up to the ceiling when she points up and bites on her lip once more. She hasn't been up there at all. The last time she had been up on the base was the hangar and that was to get into the bunker, other than that the highest floor she's been on was the first and that was mostly because of meetings. She hardly went to the meetings, not wanting to put herself in a room with the rest of the agents living in the bunker. She even made sure that she had the room that wasn't near anyone. Fifteen rooms, ten people and there was two sets of couples that liked to share so that left the others open and she had shut herself in a room that wasn't really near any of the others just to make sure that she kept everyone safe.
"I can understand that" she admitted before dropping her eyes down to look at her once more. She hadn't been blind to the tattoo on the finger pointing up to the ceiling but it wasn't anything to do with her. "I usually just walk the floor, sometimes come in here but mostly I end up in the gym like most days." she nodded and gave a slight smile. Not had Teresa smiled once but two, even if they were small smiles, for the last two months she has done nothing but frown or get angry but sitting here she finally had someone to talk too. Even if it was for the night. She was definitely straight to the point like Bucky.
"Other times I try to make food before the others get in there and before Poe starts cooking breakfast" she scoffed softly before shaking her head. Teresa pulled her lip in between her teeth and realized that she has said more to this girl than she has to anyone lately. Well unless she counted the many times she told them to stay away from her. Now they just done it rather than piss her off to the point that she makes the room shake.
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Post by Ray on Mar 4, 2017 23:19:53 GMT -7
"The gym is too crowded for me." Asya admits with a small shake of her head. Even in the night hours, this girl isn't the only one who decides to venture there. She's seen Barton coming to and from at all hours of the night, his knuckles always bloody afterwards. But even with the never-ending cycle of agents sweating their issues out over weights or the punching bag, tiring themselves out until they have to sleep, there's nothing in the gym for her. Nothing she can't lift with varying ease, nothing she can't outrun, nothing she can't demolish with a single hit.
"No one in this place can cook." Asya scoffs a little, a slight smile finding its way to her mouth as well. While she's never eaten with the rest of the group, she catches the wafting smells drifting through open doors and hallways. It always smells vaguely burnt and over-seasoned, and they only ever use the same, simple ingredients to make variations of the same, simple dishes. "I've made better food with less." But she doesn't have the patience here to bother making anything that won't get her out of the kitchen in thirty seconds flat. "And all the coffee everyone drinks." Asya teases a little, giving the woman an incredulous look. "Thirteen pots made in a single day."
But Asya can't really talk. Her penchant for liquor might be just as bad, even if tonight was the first night she's had a drink in weeks. Their beer is weak, and if anyone has vodka or whiskey, they're hiding it in their rooms.
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Post by Snowglobe18 on Mar 4, 2017 23:35:23 GMT -7
Teresa always made sure that the gym was empty for her, that's why she mostly went in the night or early in the morning. The punchbag the only thing she needed, it was the only way she would rather get her anger out. Rather than taking it out on anyone like she did to Nat hours before. But at least if she was punching the bag then at least it kept her out of the way for a few hours. Even if using the gym when she had badly bruised arms was the last thing she should be doing, sitting there doing nothing was much worse for her because it allowed her to think. It allowed her to feel when she didn't want to feel anything.
She moved so that she was turned towards her and that her own leg was up underneath her. She did have a point but they made do with what resources they had right now. And that was why she actually made sure she cooked her own food. Teresa laughed softly when she teased her about the coffee. "That sounds like my cousin" she admitted with a soft smile. "Lexi could drink coffee all the time, in fact she is so addicted to the stuff that I used to say that we would have to inject it into her veins soon enough" she looked down at her leg before biting on her lip once more.
Teresa was glad that she had someone to talk too, even if it was late at night. It was nice to have someone stay in the room with her. Jemma seemed like the one she could stay in a room with because of the fact that she was a doctor and would have to check her arms to make sure they were healing properly but other than that she stayed out the way of the others. But here she was having a conversation and even managed a couple smiles and a laugh, that has to be a record for her. "I'm Teresa by the way" she looked up at her. "But then again you probably have heard my name before" she wasn't sure if she had but she gave it over anyway.
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Post by Ray on Mar 5, 2017 0:01:18 GMT -7
"I'm not a fan of coffee." Asya says, nose crinkling upwards at the bridge. "It's either too bitter or too weak, too bland or too sweet. I like drinks where even if it's poorly made, it still tastes the same." But maybe that's a byproduct of being a poor Russian girl living in poor Russian towns, where the cafes sold more variations of homemade and imported vodka than they sold coffee or tea. Bottles of liquor were also much easier to slip up her sleeves than a cuppa, and came with a lot more uses as well. "But the agents here drink it like religion." How they sleep at all is beyond her.
The woman changes the subject by finally saying her name, filling in the small gap in Asya's knowledge of things around here. She had scrolled through most of their files one night, more curious than anything, but since she never planned on getting acquainted with any of them, learning their names hadn't seemed very important. The only ones etched in her mind are the names of people she can't seem to be free of.
"Anastasia," she replies with her own name, giving Teresa a small, friendly smile. "But just call me Asya."
Barton drapes his towel around his neck as he exits the bathroom, hot steam from his much-needed twenty minute shower billowing out after him. Natalia hadn't been that angry once she'd heard their royal fuck up of a night, more tired by the several crisis situations already on her hands to fret too badly over a botched operation. Knowing the car was in the river, the bodies with it, gave her slight ease and even some amusement.
"Just like old times, then." She'd said with a crooked smile.
"Actually, yes." He'd replied, thinking back on their very first mission together. That hadn't gone well either.
He feels exhausted all the same though, the muscles in his back tight and his head pounding. He wipes the edge of the towel down across his face as he shuffles on damp feet towards his bedroom, needing a month off from this bullshit. But as he's nearing his door, he faintly hears voices registering through his hearing aide. His brows furrow slightly, causing him to drift towards the rec room where they come from. He peers inside, expecting maybe Emily complaining to Jemma about their patrol or Sam mumbling song lyrics to himself as he studies, but instead his eyes land upon Asya and Teresa, sitting side by side on the couch, smiling in easy conversation.
His back straightens in surprise, and he finds himself staring for a long moment as if expecting the mirage to dissipate. But they continue on without noticing him. An inexplicable smile tugs at one edge of his mouth, and he turns away to return to his room.
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