I open the door to my room, nodding my head over to Spy to enter. The man had little in hand as he only brought a small suitcase with him. Most likely, it held some of his suits and maybe a spare gadget and pistol. I knew better not to ask what was in it, because I would never get a proper answer from him. Spy walked in as he hurries over to my bed, placing down the case. He kneeled down and turned some dials on the front as the case quickly popped up, unsurprisingly revealing the many same color suits he wore on a daily basis.

Spy asks, "A spare closet, monsieur?" I point at him as he turns to see a large, old wooden looking closet behind. That one was empty, if a little dusty. It was enough to hold all his belongings in. He thanks me with a nod and starts unpacking his things on my bed. But once he unfolded the first of his suits, his eyes seemed distracted at something to his right. There, sat an old looking desk. Not much was on it besides an unloaded SMG with a dirty cloth and a bottle of solvent.

He walked over to it, letting his eyes do all the touching as he turn his head to ask me, "Were you planning on cleaning this?" I only gave him a shrug back. I usually did not have my weapons out, but I had plans to clean the gun up and had completely forgotten to do it. It was unfortunate, because I could have made some great use for it today. That BLU Spook bastard had come around again, and while skipping out on the caressing, his hand did slip into less wanting places. Thankfully, he did not touch below my waist, nor did he fondle his fingers through my chest. Most of the touching he committed was on my face. It was brief, but he tended to brush his fingers against my cheek, or lips or even eyes at times. It was frankly unnerving.

Spy saw I had little interest in talking as he perused the rest of my room like some window shopper. He opened various cabinets and drawers without my permission. It seemed like a lot of work to argue with him about it, so I just let him have his fun. Besides, there was nothing important I was hiding. "You are either good at hiding your weapons, or you lack any other weapons besides your stock. Neither fancy guns, nor nothing piss related. Do you not even have that backpack with the cute Koo-wah-lah?" He was being really persistent over this non-issue.

"Stock is fine." I mutter out as I take my hat off my head, placing it on my bed.

"A purist it seems." He chuckles, closing another drawer. I thought his snooping would be done there, but something else gained his attention. He walked pass me, stopping right in front of my door. Spy just stood there, looking down at the floor, intensely.

"Was there a mess at the door recently?" He looked somewhat intrigued with the messy clear spots my carpet showed. I rushed myself cleaning that mess. Sloppy, bloody sloppy.

"Spill." I mutter again, slightly turning my head away.

"A spill you say?" He seemed less then convinced with my answer. Thankfully, he did not harass me any further on it as he passes by me once again, stopping in front of my bed. He brushed his hand on the cloth, feeling its texture. I do not know what he was trying to accomplish now, all the beds here had the same crummy papery feel. Comfortability was on the low side, same with the food. If you wish to buy something more expensive, it came from your paycheck. More comfortable sheets would be nice, but cigarettes were expensive enough. "Pardon, but these will not do." He suddenly told me, looking quite appalled. "I will bring my own. Excuse me." And with that, he took his leave. I knew the sheets were bad, but to be replaced seemed almost insulting.

Not even a minute past as Spy returned again, a long sheet rolled in his arms. Even by just looking at it I could feel the softness. The fact the guy had enough to buy softer sheets to begin with, less new cigarettes or gadgets greatly surprised me. Perhaps he knew how to keep track of his money. Or maybe he stole it, who knows.

Before getting my own say in, Spy was already in the process of removing the old sheet off my bed. I would thank him, but considering he was going to live in my room for who knows how long, it was probably for his benefit more than mines.

The work was finish as Spy does another clean wipe across the bed. He smiles and takes a quick glance at me. His face then soured, like I had just said something rude to him. He straightens himself up, and does a quick cough into his hand. "What are ya, my housewife?!" The guy suddenly yelled over at me in a sort of broken Australian accent. I just stood there, utterly confused what he was saying, less doing. Spy's frown goes into a smile as he wheezes out a snort. "I apologize, but you were never going to say it yourself." By now, I had hoped he understood that I had little care in making sarcastic remarks. It involved unnecessary banter that went nowhere. Scout proved that himself by telling me nonsensical stories and teenage gospels.

I sniff my nose, gagging a little as I truly smelled the awful odor of sweat and blood whiffing off me. A bath sounded nice right about now anyway. Heading towards one of my drawers, I searched through it and grabbed out a tank top and some baggy pants. Satisfied with what I had, I then head towards the washroom.

"Shower's mine." I did not give the Spook a chance to respond as I walk in and closed the door behind me.

Firstly, I put the water on. As that ran, I started undressing myself. Went first was the jacket, then shirt, then the pants, and finally my underwear. Soon, my hands motioned to my face, only to recall that my shades had broken off just yesterday. I sighed, feeling even more annoyed now as I wait for the water to slowly heat up.

Minutes pass as I finally see steam drip from the shower head, queuing that the water was finally warm. The water felt nice on my body as the stains of dry blood filtered down the drain. I picked up a small bottle of soap off a small plastic shelf inside my shower and squeezed the content in my hands. The slimily texture liquefied in my hands as I spread it across my arms, foaming small bubbles across my skin. I used the remaining soap on my chest, carefully rubbing it against the scars that covered my body. A lot of them were old, but I remember each one of them. They were my memories of the past. A past that was gone now.

I soon grew tired of the heat as I turn the handle off and stepped away from the shower head. Water streamed down my body as I search around for a nearby towel. However, after searching high and low, I could find no towel or rag to help clean myself off with. Blimey, just my bloody luck. Looking through my options, I either had to go out buck naked with Spy staring me down, or I had to plead to the man to get me a towel. I guess I could use my old clothes to dry me off, but they were covered in dirt and blood that it would make my entire shower a waste. Using my cleaner clothes, would be stupid and a waste of perfectly good clothing. All these ideas sounded troublesome or unpleasant, but like hell if I was going to walk out of here in just my birthday suit.

"Spook." I called out as I walked over to the door, poking my head out to see what he was doing. He was on the bed, his leg over his other leg, patiently waiting for me to finish. Wait, my hat, he is wearing my hat. This man has the gall to wear my bloody hat without my consent. He turns his head back before turning his whole body around to get a better look at me.

"Yes~?" He sang out the 'yes' longer than necessary. Pissing asshole, he was lucky I wanted to keep things short or else I would just go over there and wrestle that hat right off him.

"Get me a towel."

"Right here, monsieur~" Spy sang out again, pointing over to a dry towel sitting next to him on the bed. Bloody piss. "And where is my 'please' and 'thank you'? You did promise me that, non?" He adds on, letting his hands hold up his head. This guy's body language was pissing me off.

I scuff, just hiding behind the door now, hinting I had little interest of moving. "How about one little question then?" He gained my attention again as I peek my head out. I noticed he had taken my hat off as it sat next to him now. Spy takes a moment to breathe as the room felt a little tense. Roughly, he said, "Who are you?" The happy, bemuse voice from before was torn aside as a new tone appeared, harsher and lower. It was almost déjà vu what Spy said to me, if more eerily serious. Unlike Scout, I doubt the guy was letting me off so easily with this one.

"Sniper? What else do yah want me to say?" I foolishly replied back.

"Please do not lie right in front of my face, monsieur Bushman." His reply was unsurprising as my answer was somewhat… false. Still, that did not mean I was going to tell Spy any more than that. "It's just a simple question, non?" He asked again, his patient starting to run low. I just held silent, unsure what to say next to the man. Spy's posture became straight again as he looked right through me. He opened his mouth and said, "*Get over here already and pin me down on the bed.*" It was so unashamed, and with little emotion in his voice or face. The sentence was weird enough, but the fact he said it in French instead of English was enough to throw me off.

My head ended up flinching in reaction, pretty much hinting that I understood him in a way. Sure, I may have understood French, but I did not want for Spy to know that. Spy brought emotion on his face again as he looked extremely focused right now. "*So you understood that?*" He continues, once again in French. Luckily, I was able to control myself this time as I stood where I was, pretending to show little care in what he had to say.

There was a pause before Spy spoke again, "*I can keep a secret if you–*"

"Just give me the fuckin' towel already! I don't understand a word yer askin'!" My anger got the best of me as I ended up screaming over at the man.

Another pause.

Finally, Spy grabbed the towel and walked towards the washroom. He held it out, politely looking away from me as he did this. I say nothing and grab it from his hand, closing the door in his face.

Dressing was slow, as I knew that I had to go back out there to meet Spy again. The scene before still lingered on me and I had to wonder if he was playing some sort of joke. The man knew far more than I was giving him credit. But whatever he was thinking, I doubt he was any closer to the truth. And it should stay like that, because this was something no one needed to know.

After awkwardly pacing around the room for a minute, I finally drag myself out of the washroom. I look to find the Spook had finished unpacking all of his things into the closet and was already in his own sleepwear. The clothes he wore were colorless white cotton, with no other discreet designs to it. It seemed kind of boring for his character, but that side of himself seem to be another charade from his true personality.

Spy notices my return as he finishes spiffing up his sleeve before closing the closet door in front of him.

Acting more kindly again, he walks closer to me and offers, "Monsieur, shall we go eat now?" The offer was tempting, but I was already dressed for bed. Besides, if he really wanted to head out and eat, he should have told me before I changed.

"I'm headin' to bed, go eat yerself." I walk pass him as I headed towards my bed, sitting myself on the edge. He follows over, standing in front of me, his shadow casting over me.

"Soldier said we must do things together."

"Now if that were true, yah would have joined me in that shower." I ended up teasing the man for once as he just scuffs out, waving a dismissive hand over.

"Please, I have standards." I think I just got rejected. In a way, I was thankful that the guy's motives were nothing more than petty tricks.

With a chuckle, I reply, "Right, right," and finally accept his invitation for lunch.