Friendship. This word is something that has yet to define. What makes a friend? Is it the way you interact with a person, or is it what your lives can gain by being close to that other? What if all that mattered was your taste in sunglasses?

Sporting his sophisticated turtleneck and jacket get-up, Wesker looked about the isles of the convenience store. There was something he was looking for. Something that simply made Wesker, well… Wesker! During his traveling from Point A to Point B there was a little mishap in the helicopter and, needless to say, cracks were formed on his sunglasses. You would think the guy would have more than one pair. Guess not.

Carrying his little grocery basket, he rounded the corner to find the glasses stands located near the jewelry section and dairy isle. Strange place to put a sunglasses stand. There must have been a study that buying jewelry and sunglasses lead to buying milk.

His calm demeanor was still evident even as he approached the wall. He was looking for one specific section that held his brand. They were always in stock. More people were getting huge sunglasses that made your eyes look like bugs these days. Wesker was more than that, though. He needed something efficient and something that didn't stand out.

His eyes found his section, just in time to see a gentleman, looking about his age, was placing his brand of sunglasses over his eyes. This man was dressed in a suit. He looked like he had a job to do, so why was he buying sunglasses? Also, his hair was gelled off to the side a bit. A calculative expression on his face as he checked the circular mirror next to him. With a nod, the man turned around, but stopped when he saw Wesker. His nostrils flared. Wesker raised an eyebrow, but pressed past him to start choosing his new pair. The man still proceeded to eye Wesker. The blond was used to people eyeing him, he was a gorgeous man after all, but this was different. This man noticed something about him. He had suddenly remembered his gun was in his pocket just in case things got out of hands.

Smith's eyebrows narrowed a bit, "This humans smell isn't foul like the rest. His program is different."

Wesker tried to quickly change his sunglasses, but Smith still caught a glance of the red orbs past the darkened shades in the mirror the other man was looking into. "How peculiar."

Gloved hands adjusted the frames and then a nod was given. He was satisfied. The vibe of the other man was still there, looks like he hadn't moved at all. Well, Wesker wasn't the one to care about these sort of things. He turned around to face the Agent. With just one glance, the evidence was obvious. Both raised an eyebrow at the other, a confronting but calm scowl formed on their lips, and hands were down to their sides, posture perfect. The excessive black, the gel, the attitude, but most of all,

"… Nice sunglasses."

The sunglasses.