Uncle Nigel, Private learned quickly, while a gentle penguin was also a busy one.

The elder always seemed to have company at the oddest of hours and sometimes would leave at night when he thought the younger was asleep for hours on end. Yet the elder also seemed to be back by morning with a friendly smile in place and happy setting out their breakfast.

Though he couldn't bring himself to ask, Private fount himself becoming rather curious about what the gentlemanly penguin was up to in his spare time. After all, Penguins weren't really known to do much besides being 'Cute and Cuddly'. Then again, the past year alone had crushed every belief he once held about the 'mindless and/or savage' animals humanity thought all other life on Earth to be.

Silently the young hatchling observes his Uncle once more leave under the cover of nightfall before steeling himself and making his way out of his room. If he moved quick enough maybe he could get a bit of investigation into what his Uncle was up to before the elder returned.

Unfortunately, Private's original plan to search his Uncle's Study is dashed when he finds the door firmly locked, with no amount of his attempted lock picking skills seems to be capable of opening- Seems he was going to have to do more then just study a book if he wanted within that room. Still- thankfully- Uncle's bedroom door was unlocked.

Uncle wasn't a Penguin of many material possessions, Hell, Private was certain he held more possessions within a corner of his own room then the elder held in his whole room.

There was a bed with emerald silky green sheets that matched the elder's wallpaper, a dark ebony dresser on one wall that matched the floorboards, a set of matching nightstands holding sparse picture frames on both sides of the bed, and two bookshelves framing the medium size window on the other wall. The was a door on the right wall which Private was willing to bet lead to a master bathroom.

All in all, the room looked like it belonged in one of those Home Designer Magazines that Aunt Petunia used to always 'oh' and 'aw' at.

The photos mostly seemed to consist of what he recognized to be a younger Uncle, an older penguin who looked similar to him but with stormy eyes- if he had to put his money down, Private would say that was Uncle's Father, they looked to similar not to be related- and a female penguin with longer white hair and silver eyes- probably the sister Uncle talked about.

The only different picture contained an image of what looked to be a younger version of Uncle with a pleased gleam in his eyes and a confident smile sitting on the right side of what looked to be a younger Mr. Red- his lone eye giving off a sense of boredom and annoyance yet mild acceptable. On Mr. Red's left side was another penguin, one Private didn't recognize with a military cut 'hairstyle' and hostile crimson eyes which where watching the rouge on his left like he excepted the younger to bust out in maniacal laughter while blowing them all sky high just for the hell of it.

Despite the different expressions each held, none of the trio held so much as a tense muscle in their bodies.

The sole dresser mainly held scarves of assorted colors and hats neatly sitting on top of- what Uncle no doubt deemed- their suitable counterparts. Though what really held the emerald eyed hatchlings attention was the silver suitcase with a lock looking more like it belonged out of a sci-fi show then reality. Which left young Private with a new question:

Exactly how he was supposed to open that?

Its not like his book discussed highly advance locks that according to all public records should only exist upon an alien spacecraft or something of the sort. Unfortunately before the younger could actually have time to ponder upon his current situation, the soft echoing of feet against wood and a low mumbling voice reached his ears causing emerald eyes to widen.

It would appear, Uncle had turned back early tonight.

That thought alone had emerald eyes darting panicky around the room, he needed somewhere- anywhere- to hide before Uncle discovered him.

"Silly me."

It was easy to fall into a character, but sometimes it was a bit difficult remembering he didn't have to act the part everyday. Yet it seemed; clumsy, bumbling, 'Dolly' obsessed Uncle Nigel just wouldn't stay down.

The spy didn't mind, he was rather fond of that persona, but to forget his suitcase...

Well it was a good thing no one was around to see that, the thought alone of anyone, let alone managing to obtain such dirt on him...

Well, he would never hear the end of it.

Literally.

Bloody American was always on his case about his career choices and his 'sole minded focus'. Ha, like Rockgut was anyone to lecture about being sole minded- how long had that paranoid bird been looking for Red in the wrong bloody continent. And then there was his sense of direction- or lack of it so to speak- and his habit of rushing off to obviously make believe places.

Frowning, the spy paused outside his bedroom door- certain for a moment that he heard the sound of feet shuffling over wood from within the room before all feel silent once more. Straightening his shoulder's as his eyes narrowed, the spy slowly pushed open the door.

Empty.

The whole bloody room was exactly how he left it and more importantly- empty. Still, just because you don't see anyone doesn't mean they're not there. Slowly he began to make his way around the room.

Slight smear on the wooden floors, likely caused by someone of a smaller stature spinning in place. Picture sitting at a forty-three degree angle when he left it at a forty-five, slight edge of a emerald scarf sticking out of his dresser, covers ruffled slightly, and probably most importantly was his suitcase sitting innocently on the bedroom floor instead of inside his dresser.

In other words, a small penguin- likely between two to five pounds- rough estimate that of a hatchling was snooping around through his bedroom, probably started with the pictures and slowly made his way around to the dresser where he discovered the suitcase and attempted to either open or get a better look at it. Most possible scenario was the young one had heard him coming and sense he didn't see anyone rushing out the door and the alarm on the window hadn't been tripped the Lad was likely under his bed.

The very idea had the spy chuckling softly to himself as he bent down to pick up his suitcase with a sense of pride- catching a brief glimpse of his terrified looking nephew huddled under the bed with flippers covering his beak.

As he suspected.

Straightening up, the spy shook his head.

Such an curious young Lad.

Hhmm, Nigel suppose he could let the younger off the hook this time but the Lad would diffentally need a new set of books- maybe even a bit of training disguised as a bit of fun- if he ever wanted to be a suitable spy. Nodding to himself, Nigel let himself out of his room, chuckling softly when he heard the relieved sigh from under the bed as the door clicked shut.

Private waited until he could no longer hear his Uncle's quiet footsteps before quickly clambering out from under the bed and rushing down to his own bedroom, wincing as he managed to accidently slam the door before swiftly climbing underneath his covers- just in case the elder decided to check out the sudden noise.

That had been close, too close.

Luckily Uncle Nigel didn't even consider looking under the bed or he would have been caught red flippered. Unable to stop himself from grinning, Private couldn't help the sense of pride that felt him knowing he had been able to not only sneak into his Uncle's room but do so without the elder once suspecting he was there- it made him feel like one of those characters from the stories his Uncle told him every night and filling him with a sense of upmost delight.

Tomorrow he would just have to go about his day normally and Uncle Nigel would never know he was ever there.