Spy had been to a lot of bases during his employment at BLU, and he had found that each base was a little different. Sometimes the residents were close friends, and sometimes their dislike for each other was only thinly veiled (or not veiled at all); sometimes Spy was well-received as the one to capture the intel, and sometimes he was despised as a cowardly, shapeshifting rat; sometimes he met old friends (or enemies) from previous assignments, but, more often than not, his teammates were all new.
But what Spy had determined to be the most important factor in how much he would like a base was how said base smelled. While most just smelled like dust and gunpowder, some of his favorite bases had had distinctive scents: one had always smelled faintly floral; in one, the aroma of baked goods seemed to be intrinsic in the very walls; and one had smelled strongly of wine. (He had had some good times in that last one.)
However, when he stepped into the base of his newest assignment, all he could smell was the stale odor of dirty socks.
Spy couldn't wait to be reassigned.