"Mega, you fucking shithead, what would I do without you?" Cynthia Houston banged the door to Curt's office open with no warning or pretense—per usual. "You really saved our asses in Thailand this weekend."

Curt smiled and waved his hand at her. "It was no big deal, Cynthia, really. Anyone could have brought down a multi-million dollar trafficking operation with just dental floss and a handful of marbles."

"Marbles? I heard it was gumballs." Owen Carvour stuck his head in the doorway. "Either way, good show, Mega." His smile was lopsided and he stuck out a hand for Curt to shake.

"Mega, have you met Special Agent Owen Carvour?" Cynthia asked.

Curt shook Owen's hand; his grip was firmer than expected. "We've met a few times, yes. But only briefly." He let go of Owen's hand. "Your reputation precedes you, Carvour. I heard last week that you single-handedly escaped nine drug-lords in Laos."

Owen shrugged. "Eleven drug-lords. But hey, who's counting?"

"Cavour! Are you coming or what?" Agent Bryan Larsen called from down the hall. "I need to file this report so I can go home!"

"Coming!" Owen shouted over his shoulder. "Let me buy you a beer sometime, Mega. I'll dazzle you with stories of how MI6 does things."

Curt laughed. "Maybe someday, Carvour."

"Carvour!" Bryan snapped from down the hallway. "I got date night tonight! If you make me late, I'll never hear the end of it."

Owen rolled his eyes. "Bye Cynthia. Mega." He nodded at each in turn before turning to jog down the hall towards Bryan. "Cool your jets, Larsen. You'll make it home in time to improperly shag your wife."

"Shut the fuck up, Carvour." Bryan said as they turned the corner.

"Finish up your report by this evening." Cynthia said. "I need to submit it to the Vice President tomorrow morning so we can officially close the case. Don't fuck it up."

"Love you, too, Cynthia." Curt said, going to sit back down behind his desk to finish editing his case report.

Curt finally finished his write-up around 8PM and went to drop it on Cynthia's desk when he bumped into Owen in the hallway.

"Oh, hello, Mega." Own said. "Finish your report?"

"Yeah. It's the only part of the job that I hate—all the paperwork." He opened the door to Cynthia's office and dropped the thick file on her desk. "What about you? Did you finish?"

Owen sighed. "No. Larsen had to leave, so we couldn't finish, which means I'll have to delay my flight back to London until Thursday and come back here tomorrow to finish."

"Is your wife upset?"

Owen shook his head. "Not married. Though, I'm sure my cat is a little miffed." He huffed a small laugh, and they began to walk towards the exit of the building. "Hey, I'm starving." Owen said. "Where's a good place for food around here?"

"There's a bar just down the street. They've got good burgers." Curt said.

"Care to join me? I'll buy you that beer."

Curt hesitated a moment, then shrugged. Nothing wrong with getting to know a fellow spy. "Sure. I could use a drink."

The bar was dingy and poorly lit, and Curt and Owen were the only patrons apart from a very intoxicated man who was hanging on to his barstool by an inch of trouser fabric.

"Sit wherever." The bartender huffed when they walked in. "Whatcha want?"

"Guinness." Curt said, shrugging his coat off and draping it over a chair at a table near the window. "And a house burger with no ketchup."

Owen hesitated a moment, but didn't see a menu anywhere. "I'll have the same."

Owen took the chair across from Curt, and an awkward silence descended. The only sound in the bar was the TV, which was tuned to a news station. "Witness accounts from New York, Los Angeles, Dallas, and Chicago report a strange new disease that's come about. Reports say that victims of the disease appear to die, then promptly reawake and attack anyone around them—trying to bite them. Those bitten quickly succumb to the same fate."

Owen gestured to the TV. "What do you make of that, Mega?"

Curt turned around to look at the news report. On screen, a crazed man with blood around his mouth chased a woman on the street, before grabbing her and biting her neck. "Video accounts show a horrifying lack of empathy from the victims of the disease. The CDC has yet to release an official cause, but their public statement to CNN advised citizens in cities where the disease has been spotted to stay inside as much as possible, and not to engage with those who have been infected."

Curt rolled his eyes. "It's mass hysteria."

"You think so?" Owen asked as the bartender set their food and drinks down in front of them. He took a sip of his beer. "It's been going on for a few weeks in Europe now, and I heard a report that the first cases have started popping up in South America and Asia. It seems to be moving faster."

"It's mass hysteria—trust me. It probably started as a new disease, but now people are making up symptoms in their heads and the idea is spreading faster than the disease. Just watch—in a few weeks, the CDC will put out a statement about the disease, it's real symptoms, and how to treat it, and this will all be a weird memory." Curt took a massive bite out of his burger and began to chew. When he looked back at Owen, he found the other spy's dark brown eyes drilling in to him. "What?" Curt said around his burger, then looked down at his hands and shirt to see if he'd spilled something on himself.

"Nothing." Owen dropped his stare and picked up his own burger. "I just think we should all be a little more cautious about diseases we know nothing about." He took a bite of the burger and the two men fell into a comfortable silence as they ate their dinner.

"Can you find your way back to your hotel?" Curt asked as they exited the bar.

Owen squinted at the nearest intersection's signs and nodded. "Yeah, I'm just a few blocks that way." He gestured to the right. "Thanks for the recommendation—that's probably the best burger I've ever had."

Curt held out his hand. "Thanks for the beer."

Owen gripped Curt's hand in a firm shake. "See you tomorrow, Mega."

"Likewise, Carvour."