Spy glanced at his watch for the fifth time in nine- wait- ten minutes. He straightened his tie and looked around the restaurant. It was a quiet night and there were only a handful of people besides the servers. Nervously, he drummed his fingers on the table, staring at the clock on the restaurant wall. It was seven o'clock and still no sign of the Texan.
He glanced down at his watch again then back at the clock. The time was correct. Was Engineer not going to show up? Maybe he hadn't received the note. Spy was sure he'd put it where the man would find it. Maybe someone else had intercepted it. But he would have expected more trouble by now if that was the case. Maybe the cowboy had found the note and decided not to come. That was always possible, he supposed. They were enemies.
However, Engineer hadn't protested when he had dropped by that night in the barracks. The Texan had invited him into his room, and they'd chatted. They hadn't talked about anything important, but still, they'd talked. Civilly. Almost like friends. Surely, the cowboy would accept his invitation tonight. Surely.
Resisting the urge to look at his watch again, he settled instead on distracting himself with the wine list. Though it was so dismally short that calling it a list was generous, which he supposed was to be expected. This was the most expensive restaurant in the desert, but it was still far from actual civilization. They considered hanging a stuffed bull's head on the wall proper decoration.
Spy glared at the menu as if he could make it longer or more acceptable. But alas it remained both meager and pathetic. He'd have to make do ordering something else with dinner.
"Sorry ah'm late." A familiar voice drawled, Spy nearly jumped. "There was a fire on base- not one'uh Pyro's," the Texan added as he pulled the chair across the table out, "had to help."
"No worries, Monsieur," he smiled warmly looking up from the menu, "I was just about to…" he trailed off, mouth agape.
The cowboy was wearing the suit, the one he had fitted and purchased for him all those months ago.
"What?" Engineer frowned.
"I was just looking at the wine list." Spy said quickly, turning back to the menu and trying to suppress a smile. He glanced back a moment, he had seen the man in the suit before, but hadn't noticed how good he looked in it, how the color suited him. His eyes darted from the menu back to the Texan, he really did need someone to dress him properly. And destroy his current wardrobe.
"Don' lookit me like that," the cowboy frowned. He fidgeted defensively with his tie. "Yah burned mah suit and I wasn't about to show up here in overalls."
Spy grimaced at the memory of the checkered nightmare and its leather elbow patches. The man had probably worn it with a bolo tie. It had gone up in flames nearly the instant he lit the match near it. "That was not a suit, Monsieur. That was a crime."
"Who asked yah for your input?" the Texan shot back.
Spy was about to retort when he was cut off.
"-What can I get you gentlemen to drink tonight?" As if on cue, one of the waiters came to the table.
"A whiskey, no ice."
Spy took one last disappointed look at the wine list before handing it to the server. "I'll have the same. Oh, and this will all be on one check."
"Alright, I'll be back with your drinks." with that the man disappeared.
The Texan looked at him uneasily, "That's right decent of ya."
"It is only fair, Monsieur," Spy insisted. "I invited you out here tonight."
"Still haven't said why you did."
"I only hope this establishment is as good as it claims to be." the Frenchman quickly interjected all the while glaring at the prices on the menu.
"Supposed to be a good place." the Texan murmured, looking around the room. "I think this is the joint the guys got kicked out of."
"I do believe I saw pictures of them by the host's stand." the Frenchman added casually. The idiots were, in fact, banned. There was no sense in the cowboy finding out that Spy had more than a slight hand in the events that led to RED team's disgrace. It might ruin the mood.
"I still can't get a straight answer out of any of 'em what happened that night." Engineer sighed, turning his attention to his own menu.
Spy remained smugly silent as the waiter gently set their drinks in front of them.
"Can I ask what the occasion is?" the Texan asked after the server took their order.
"Occasion?" the Frenchman repeated quietly.
"Why are we out here?"
Spy debated for a moment before replying, "Celebrating."
"May I ask what we're celebrating?"
"A personal victory of mine." he replied with a shrug as he took a sip of his whiskey.
He had managed to trail the RED Spy on his recent jaunt to meet his paramour. The negatives were in a hidden pocket in his jacket. The images of the man and his lover were clear as day and twice as damning. He hadn't figured out what he was going to do with them, or when he would use them but their acquisition was definitely something to be celebrated.
"A personal victory?" Engineer echoed, raising an eyebrow. "Yah care to enlighten me? Or just going to leave it a mystery?"
"But monsieur, I thought you liked mysteries."
"Ah like mah mysteries in books. Where they belong."
"Speaking of books, how are you enjoying Chandler?" Spy asked quickly.
"Chandler?" the Texan frowned.
"The Long Good-Bye, you were reading it last we talked." he had seen the book on the Texan's bed the night they'd chatted.
"Oh," the man seemed taken aback that he'd noticed. "I'm enjoying it alright." he replied cautiously. "Think I liked his others a bit more."
"I have to say I'm surprised-" Spy took a sip of his drink, "I expected you to read books about cowboys and horses and lone rangers."
"I read a bit of everything, honestly." Engineer answered with a shrug. "You? You read about European secret agents?"
Spy snorted "Hardly." Though he got the man's point. He hesitated, personal information was still personal information no matter how trivial, and not to be shared carelessly. "I'm fond of crime novels." he admitted.
"So Sam Spade, Sherlock Holmes, and Agatha Christie?"
"I prefer Lupin."
"You changed the subject, and still haven't told me why you called me out here."
"Yes, I did." Spy protested. "I told you we are here celebrating-"
"Celebratin' somethin' yah refuse to explain- yes." the Texan cut in, "But why did you invite me? Why not celebrate with someone on your own team?"
Spy took a sip of his drink, he had been hoping to avoid this question. Except the cowboy was not a fool. He was going to ask sooner or later. It had been inevitable. "There isn't anyone on my team I care to share my time with." he answered simply, and let his words hang in the air.
The cowboy 's brow furrowed, he was quiet for what felt like an hour before breaking the silence, "But somehow, I'm someone you want to spend time with?"
"Oui." Spy replied with a shrug. "You're a good conversationalist." he added defensively. "And you have basic table manners and are less likely to get us thrown out." And looked rather good in a suit and had that silly Texas drawl he could listen to for hours.
"Oh… well, uh…" Engineer's words trailed off uncertainly, "Thank yeh?"
This wasn't the most positive reaction Spy could have hoped for, but it wasn't hostile nor was the Texan angry at him. So he decided to take this as progress. Any occasion when the man wasn't threatening to hit him with a wrench was progress.
"Je t'en prie." he answered.
The Texan took a sip of his whiskey, then suddenly froze, quirking an eyebrow. But he remained silent as the server placed their plates in front of them and refilled their glasses. Distracted by steak dinner the man turned his attention to his meal.
Spy looked down at his own plate appraisingly. The food smelled appetizing enough, he sliced the meat down the middle and prodded it.
"Is everything alright, sir?" the server asked with a frown. The steak was cooked correctly, like he'd ordered it. Spy nodded and gestured the man away.
"Do yah always dissect yer meals before you eat them?" Engineer deadpanned. Spy took a bite of his steak, deliberately chewing, not giving him an answer.
The cowboy cut into his own meal and held a piece on his fork, giving it a wary eye and sniffing it curiously.
"It's not drugged." Spy huffed. He had rather hoped the man would at least trust him enough to stop second guessing dinner. "And you criticize me for examining my food."
"Can't blame me for bein' cautious." Engineer insisted before finally taking a bite.
"Don't be so dramatic. I only drugged you once."
"And beat me unconscious. Twice."
Spy rolled his eyes and chewed another mouthful of steak.
"Yah know, Spook-" the Texan said cutting another bite. "You keep changing the subject. Y'still haven't told me what this 'victory' of yours is."
The man really was too smart for his own good, Spy cringed inwardly as he swallowed. Finally he spoke, "I've had a bit of a… side project." He continued, choosing his words carefully, the cowboy would probably not take too kindly to the idea of blackmailing a teammate. "A project I have been pursuing for a while, and I finally got results."
"A side project?"
"I'm sorry Monsieur, but if I tell you anymore, I will have to spoil this lovely meal and kill you." he intoned gravely. He presumed that the man would respect that reason enough to stop hounding him for information.
The corners of the cowboy's mouth tightened and his eyes narrowed.
"I can promise you, however," Spy added soothingly, "that it does not involve you." He wasn't sure if the man would accept any promise from him, he could only hope.
The Texan opened his mouth as if to protest but shut it again after a moment or two. He seemed to relax slightly and took another drink from his glass. If the man accepted his word he wasn't going to admit it, but miraculously, he wasn't openly rejecting it either.
"So how is your dinner?" he inquired, steering the conversation on to safer subjects.
"Pretty good," the man replied with a lop sided smile, "been a long while since I've had a decent steak. How's yours?"
"Not bad." Spy tersely admitted. "However, I have tasted better."
"Of course yah have." Engineer rolled his eyes while the server filled his glass again, "I suppose you are going to say that only Frenchmen know how to cook steak?"
"Nonsense" Spy snorted, "I've had some amazing ones in New Yor-"
"New Yorkers wouldn't know what to do with a cow if one came up and bit 'em." the Texan interjected. "You haven't lived until you've had a Texas steak."
"Is that so?"
"Just the God's honest truth."The cowboy insisted with a shrug, "We raise 'em in Texas, only stands to reason we grill 'em the best."
Spy smiled, "So do you cook, Monsieur?"
"Do I cook?" the man asked incredulously.
"Do you cook?" he repeated. He had seen the man scrounge in the cupboards of RED base, eating crackers, prepackaged military rations, canned soups, but hadn't seen the man cook. Though, if this was from lack of knowledge how to or just determination not to he had never been able to figure out.
"Ah can grill." Engineer corrected. "Steak, burgers, pork ribs, potatoes…" he grinned. "Give me some charcoal and a flame and I can grill anythin'."
"Is that a promise?" Spy teased, curious if he could keep the Texan talking so enthusiastically. To Spy's delight, he could, the Texan took another sip from his glass and started reminiscing about cookouts and having to feed himself on oil fields.
The night wore on and they had continued chatting, the plates cleared away, their dinner long eaten and their glasses topped off. The waiters had started stacking chairs on the empty tables, prowling around the room, making not so subtle indications that they would very much like the pair of them to pay their bill and leave.
Spy left a few bills on the table to cover the tab and leave enough for a large tip. Normally he wouldn't have bothered, but tonight, ah tonight, he could afford to be generous.
"Well, uh… thank yah for dinner." The Texan said as they stepped out the door into the night air."It was a nice change from canned soup and sandwiches." The man fidgeted with his collar leaving his tie crooked. Spy resisted the urge to straighten it.
"You're welcome." He leaned against a doorpost and pulled his cigarette case out of his jacket pocket.
"I better get back to base before anyone starts wonderin' where I got to." The cowboy walked to his beat up truck. "Have a good night."
"Bonne nuit, Monsieur." Spy answered as he attempted to light his cigarette. For some reason he found he was having a harder time doing so than he ought to.
Engineer paused at the driver side door and looked at him, "Yah alright there Spook?"
"Hm?" he looked up from his task.
"You going to be able to make it back to base?"
The Frenchman snorted, "I'm fine."
"Yah sure?" the man persisted.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Normally it doesn' take yah ten tries to light your cigarette."
"Nonsense!"
"Yer holdin' the lighter three inches away from the tip."
Spy awkwardly pocketed the lighter and glared at the unburnt cigarette.
"Ah think you've had a bit too much to drink." the Texan said quietly.
"That's ridiculous." Spy insisted. He didn't get intoxicated. Schoolboys and fools got intoxicated.
There was a sigh as Engineer walked around the truck and pulled down the tailgate. Grumbling to himself, he began unbuttoning his jacket and tossed it inside the truck.
"What are you doing?" Spy asked baffled, watching the man roll up his shirt sleeves.
"Gettin' yer little moped in the truck bed. Ah barely trust yah to drive that down the road sober much less drunk."
"I'm not drunk!" he insisted.
"Tell that to me when yah ain't leaning on a doorpost for support." the cowboy retorted wheeling the scooter towards the truck.
With a snort of derision, Spy straightened and stepped from the doorway. He gestured for the Texan to see but the man wasn't paying attention. He was pushing the Vespa next to the old farm truck. He was about to ask how Engineer intended to load the scooter but the engineer had already set his stance, getting his hands under the vespa and side car, and lifted. Spy could see the engineer's biceps tighten and bulge through his dress shirt as he raised the Vespa onto the truck bed. Pushing it further on Engineer slammed the tailgate shut.
Spy's throat made a dry clicking sound when he swallowed.
"What are yah standing there for? Get in the truck."
Seeing no reason to argue with the man, Spy walked to the passenger side door and climbed in, he might have stumbled slightly but that was due to the dark. Not at all due to the amount of whiskey he had consumed. He was no schoolboy.
Engineer climbed in, turned the key, and the engine roared to life.
"Just for the record, I ain't droppin' you off at your front door."
"Of course not."
"Be dang hard to explain if anyone saw this." The Texan murmured as he pulled onto the road. "Heck, not even sure I know."
"Just claim you didn't realize it was me." Spy suggested as he dug in his jacket pocket for his cigarette case and lighter. "I pretended to be some demoiselle en détresse." He chuckled and lit his cigarette. "When you finally saw through my masterful deception, I held you at gunpoint."
"Yah'd think I'd have been curious what a pretty little thing was doin' in the middle of the desert on a moped."
"I was very charming."
"Of course, when ain't ya?" the Texan chuckled, and Spy thought he could almost make out a smile on the man's face. "So yer arthritic scooter finally died and yah had to-" the cowboy quickly turned his head as if just realizing something, "are yah smokin' in mah truck?"
"Yes?"
"Well stop it!"
"I've smoked in your truck before."
"I wasn't conscious last time yah did, now put that out!"
"Non!"
The Texan leaned over, the truck swerved with him as he tried to grab the cigarette.
The road had become much rougher, bumpier. Spy glared out the window and gaped. That was not a road. Roads tended not to have cacti in the middle of them. They weren't on the road. "Putain!"
Turning his attention back to the wheel Engineer grabbed hold with his other hand and sharply veered out of the way almost colliding with a rock outcropping. Panting, he slammed on the brakes, the truck squealed in protest as they lurched to a stop.
There was a long moment as the engine idled and the pair sat in silence, catching their breaths.
"I think, Monsieur Cowboy, you've also had a bit much to drink." Spy said with a laugh.
Wordlessly, the Texan turned the engine off and opening the driver's side door hopped out. Spy followed suit watching the other man produce a flashlight from somewhere in the cab.
"Doesn't appear to be any damage." the cowboy called out after a quick look around outside the truck. "The road is some ways off that way," he gestured with the torch. "Probably." He added guiltily. "We shouldn' be that far off."
Spy squinted off into the direction indicated, unable to see a trace of the road in the dark. There was hardly any light except for a sliver of the moon and the stars. There was little good about the desert, but he would make an exception for the stars.
"Pretty night." the cowboy murmured. Well- there might be another good thing about the desert the Frenchman mused, turning his eyes back to the truck and the Texan. "What time is it?"
With the flick of a button Spy could make out the dim glow of his watch "Almost 2 in the morning."
"A good few hours until sunrise."
"What are you suggesting?"
"Probably be better to maybe get some shuteye-sober up'a bit. Wait for daylight at least."
"I don't know Monsieur, I have heard cacti can be vicious in the day."
"Just shuddap and help me get yer Vespa off of here." the cowboy grumbled, trudging towards the truck bed.
"What for?"
"I ain't sleepin' next to a scooter."
"You are going to sleep in the back of a truck?" Spy asked incredulously.
"It's above the snakes and scorpions and has more room than the cab." the Texan answered with a logical shrug as he lowered the tailgate. "There's space for you too, or you can try to squeeze in the cab."
Spy was about to protest and take his chances in the cab when he realized what he'd be rejecting. "How do you want me to assist?"
Sleeping in the back of the truck was a better idea conceptually than it was in execution, Engineer realized as he shifted on his side trying to find a better position. He'd done this in the past, but he didn't remember it being quite this uncomfortable. Then again, he'd at least had something for a pillow, as it was he found he needed his jacket for warmth and couldn't spare it as a cushion. He folded his arms and rested his head on them with a glare at the snoring Frenchman.
Despite the snake's protests about sleeping in the back of the truck he'd dozed off quickly enough. Or at least Spy looked like he was asleep, Engineer wasn't really sure. The snoring seemed fairly accurate. But he never really knew what to think when it came to the snake.
A cold gust of wind cut through the air, and the fabric of the Texan's jacket. With a shudder he tried to curl on himself for warmth. Clamping his eyes shut he tried to count sheep and will himself to sleep. He hadn't gotten to the tenth lamb when he heard a murmur. Opening one eye, he glanced over to the Spook, the man was still asleep but huddled against the wheel well, shivering. Spy might be feigning sleep, but that looked like real shivering.
After a moments debate he slid closer to the man, "You better not be pullin' my leg." He muttered darkly as he laid himself back to back with the man. The Frenchman stiffened like a startled cat, ready to spring up and attack. Suddenly, he was reminded of the time Scout learned what happened if you surprised Sniper in the mornings. The kid nearly lost an eye before Slim ever even realized what was going on.
"It's gettin' cold," Engineer mumbled feebly, not really sure that would pacify. There was a pause but the Frenchman finally murmured something incoherent and relaxed again. Gingerly, the Texan settled at the man's back, it was a bit warmer this way. Soon the Texan went back to counting his sheep and eventually nodded off.
The stars were fading from view and the sun was rising, streaking the sky with yellows and oranges when Spy opened his eyes. He yawned, his eyes darting around, taking in his surroundings and inventory of himself. He was dressed, on a farm truck in the middle of the desert. The events of the night before were a warm haze but he remembered enough; he met the cowboy for dinner, they had tried to lurch back to their homes and ended up stranded.
He stretched and felt a weight pressing against his back. Something warm and soft. Carefully, he turned onto his back to see the Texan soundly asleep, curled up next to him. He vaguely remembered the night before, the man saying something to him. Something about being cold?
His face broke into a smile that thankfully no one was around to witness. He turned to a more convenient position, pausing to make sure the man hadn't awoken. The cowboy grunted but made no further sign of stirring. He shouldn't do this, he reminded himself as he settled against the cowboy, pressing his face into the man's shoulder, feeling his warmth, listening to his breath. Even now, the man still had that faint smell of gun oil on him. He let a hand settle on his arm, delicately so not to disturb the Texan and shatter the moment. If the man awoke he'd feign sleep and deny everything if pressed.
This meant nothing, he reminded himself. They were barely friends, they were more civil opponents, really. Though the previous night made him hope that they might be able to at least be friends, regardless of their professional ties. To spend time with him, he assured himself, would be enough.
Spy closed his eyes, taking in every detail of this moment. This would be enough. This would have to be enough, he told himself.
The Texan woke up to the smell of cologne and cigarettes. Groggily, his mind began to piece together facts. He was in the middle of the desert, the sun was on the edge of the sky. It was probably a bit past sunrise. He was in the back of his truck and he was a lot more comfortable than he would have expected all things considered. Certainly warmer. His head was resting on something that was definitely not the boards of the truck bed. He opened his eyes and immediately shut them again. He re-opened them slowly, first one eye and then the other, but the scene hadn't changed.
He tried to tell himself he wasn't seeing what he was seeing. This wasn't happening. He wasn't resting his head on the enemy Spy's arm. Nope. The Frenchman wasn't pressed into his back. Nope. This wasn't happening. That wasn't the other man's hand on his side. And that was a flashlight or gun he was feeling at his back. Clearly. One or both of them had probably gotten cold- colder- while they were asleep. These things happened.
However he tried to lie to himself he found he was unable to ignore the growing discomfort of his pants, which weren't as perfectly fitted as they had been just moments before.
Engineer inhaled and slowly exhaled, feeling the tips of his ears burn. He was a grown man. These things happened. Nothing to be ashamed of. It was a reflex. Cautiously, he tried to slide away from Spy, get some distance between them. But he had barely moved an inch when he heard a sharp intake of breath and felt a gloved hand tighten on his jacket.
"Qui?" Spy grumbled. The Texan tried to pull away, but the man's grip on the edge of his jacket complicated manners. After a few tugs the Frenchman released him. Once free, the Texan slid the remaining six inches over to the other side of the truck bed.
He sat up and began moving towards the tail gate avoiding eye contact.
"Bonjour" Spy greeted him, stiffly sitting up.
"Mornin'." He answered, not turning to look at the man. "Sorry 'bout…" He trailed off, not sure what to say. He rubbed the back of his neck, wracking his brain and trying to remember if he had dreamed about Evie that night, whether that would have made the situation even more awkward. " … it got cold." He finished lamely.
"Yes it did." the Frenchman agreed. There was a long pause that stretched on and on as Engineer waited. Waited for some joke, some insult, some comment. Instead the man asked, "How far off the road are we?"
"Oh?" the Texan craned his neck and looked towards the horizon away from other man, grateful for a topic change. "'Bout a quarter mile, looks like. Just as well we didn't try to find the road in the dark."
"Agreed." the Spook edged towards the tailgate and climbed down, the Texan looked away to avoid embarrassment. Whether it was the snake's or his own, he wasn't sure. Landing easily on his feet, Spy dusted himself off and made his way to his ramshackle transport.
Engineer hopped off the back of the truck and slammed it shut without a word. The silence went on as neither dared to look at the other or comment. At this point, all he wanted to do was get in his truck and pretend this never happened.
The Frenchman's Vespa sputtered and wheezed until the engine finally turned over. The Texan opened his cab door and started to climb in.
"Oh Monsieur cowboy," Spy called out to him.
Engineer looked over his shoulder at the man. "Yea?"
"If you like, I can recommend an excellent dry cleaner."
"A dry cleaner?"
"For your suit. They also do repair work."
The Texan looked down at his sleeve, the suit was rather rumpled and worse for wear. "Oh? Are they affordable?" he found himself asking.
"The work is worth the price." the man insisted, "You take those clothes into them, they'll be good as new."
"Is that right?"
"Like this night never happened."
"Uh… Thank y-" he was cut off as the scooter sputtered and rattled off into the desert towards the road.
It was a wonder that damn thing still worked, he thought to himself as he watched the dust trail bounce away.
"Ah hell," he muttered to no one in particular, climbed into his truck and turned on the engine.
The problem with a good night out, Engineer had learned early in college, was the morning after. Now that he was older he found the problem multiplied. Last night had been an enjoyable night out, surprise cactuses and near accidents aside. The food had been good, and the snake had been pleasant company and surprisingly easy to talk to. Admittedly that might also have been the uncounted glasses of whiskey.
The Texan parked his truck behind the work shed and killed the motor. He slumped onto the steering wheel and winced as the morning sun bounced from the side mirror into his eyes.
His mouth felt like sandpaper and his back ached. Shower and bed. That was the ticket. Get out of this suit and pass out in his comfortable bed. Cringing, he climbed out of the truck and trudged his way to the base.
Maybe he could get back to his room without anyone noticing. It was still early, it was a Saturday, maybe everyone was still asleep. Maybe everyone had left base for the weekend. Maybe.
Somehow, he doubted he'd be that lucky.
"Where have you been?" a familiar voice called to him. With a flinch, he looked up and saw Sniper sitting in the doorway to his camper drinking what was probably his third cup of coffee.
"Eh… out," he said gesturing vaguely with his hand, hoping that Slim didn't ask for any more details.
"All laired up like that?"
"Yea…" he looked down at his clothes. The suit, while more than a bit rumpled and dusty was still undeniably a suit and not his usual attire.
"So have yerself a ripper of a night out eh?"
"No - it was… enh…." Anything was probably better than admitting the truth. He had gone to meet the enemy Spy for dinner, at the restaurant the team was banned from. And spent the night in a truck bed huddled with said saboteur for warmth. His mind slowly cranked looking for an alternative story. "Dinner!" he blurted.
The Australian frowned, his brow quirked above his aviators. "Yah went to dinner dressed like that?"
"Yes?"
"By yourself?"
"Yes."
"And yer just now are getting back?"
"Yes."
"All rumpled like?"
"… Yes."
Sniper took a sip from his coffee, his sunglasses hiding his eyes that were judging by the tilt of his eyebrows, were no doubt skeptical.
"Well, I'm gonna wash up…" the Texan decided to take this lull in the interrogation to flee "I'll see ya later, Slim! We're still on for cards tonight right?" he babbled as he made his escape.
"Hey Laddie!" Demo exclaimed as Engineer walked up the steps. He grumbled a response, his mind focused only on getting to his room. "Rough night, eh?" the Scotsman asked with a knowing chuckle and a wink.
He quickened his pace down the hall to the sleeping quarters, his eyes on the floor trying not to make eye contact with anyone. A shower could wait. All he wanted now was his bed. Bed and peace. And for people to stop getting the wrong idea. He was down the hall, he was almost there.
"Hudduh!" he heard the familiar greeting and the creaking of asbestos, looking up he saw Pyro looming in front of him.
"Mornin' firebug," he answered, reluctantly.
"Hud huh huh?"
"Sorry pardner, I'm a bit tired." he explained sheepishly. "I had a late night, I'll talk to you later."
"Huh hi huh hooh hih?" the firebug asked, head cocked like a curious puppy.
"Yea…" the Texan answered with a faint smile, "Yea I suppose it was a good night."
"Hooh!" Pyro clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a thumbs up.
"Thanks pardner." he smiled and unlocked his door. The door shut behind him as he stepped into the room. Shedding his jacket on the floor he collapsed on the bed and was asleep before he hit the pillow.
