4. SMITHERS

Author: Zyzyax

Smithers hadn't really been invited to many parties in his life. For some reason, people didn't like fun exploding party favors, especially when they singed the hideous floral upholstery. Oh, well, more for him. Though, he figured that this crowd might be more receptive to explosive party favors than most. Let's see: spies, a juvenile rich delinquent, and soldiers. Smithers had just the thing. Tom Harris really shouldn't have invited him. Smithers had been excited. He'd made a personalized gift for all of them. Okay, maybe it was overdoing it a little, but still, he'd had a lot of fun in his labs. Hehe. Well, maybe glitter-bombing Fiona Friend wasn't a great idea, but Alex had to use his one defensive weapon on her. Besides, she was an overall pain-in-the-ass if reports were to be believed. Smither carefully made his way around the party handing out his, uh, unique party favors. Hey, nobody could accuse him of being a boring little sourpuss like Blunt at least. He'd bet the man would have brought breath mints or something. Who the hell gave out breath mints at a party? Alan Blunt apparently. Anyhow, there was his first recipient. "Merry Christmas, Alex."

The child gave him a tired smile. "Thank you, Smithers."

Smithers handed him a small figurine. "You're welcome, Alex."

Alex gave him a suspicious look. Smithers honesty didn't blame the child. "What does it do?"

Smithers pretended to sputter indignantly. He was pretty sure Alex was getting the message. "Nothing I assure you. I just heard that a white knight figurine was the way to go to make your evening go out with a bang."

Alex snorted. Oh, yes, he got the message. Alex had always been amused by his little jokes. "Sure, Smithers. How've you been?"

Smithers walked in the direction of the food table. "Pretty good, Busy as always. You know how the office is. Always buzzing."

Alex gave him a wry sort of grin. "Oh, yes, plenty of bugs, too. If one judges by the amount of mosquito lotion used."

Smithers chuckled. Alex was quite sharp when he wanted to be. Smithers was well aware of the bugs around the office. It was one of the reasons he had demanded the fat suit. "I personally prefer the electric shock of a few buzzers, myself. Have you seen the ones that look like tennis racquets? I thought you might like one, but knowing you it would end up in the torso of some poor unfortunate soul."

Alex grinned. "Aw, Smithers, you know I'm not that bad. Besides, Karma."

Smithers snorted. Karma indeed. "Well, I had best make the rounds."

A bit like a mischievous Santa Claus. Alex's eyes danced. "Don't have too much fun."

He darted off before Smithers could retort. Pssh. Not everything blew up around him. Tsk.

"So, how's she been?"

It was Joe Byrne. Smithers looked at him. Oh, he meant Tulip. "Pretty well. I'm sure you know how difficult being Deputy Director is."

Byrne fidgeted. It was unusual. The man had a reputation for being passionate, but confident in his decisions. "Yeah, but, I mean, since her family and all…"

Smithers arched a brow. By the time he'd joined MI6. The rumors left over from the Cold War had turned almost into mere legend. Perhaps there was a grain of truth to them after all. Or perhaps they were just good friends. Tulip Jones and Joe Byrne, huh? It brought a whole new meaning to the word power couple. Smithers sighed. "They say you went to the funeral."

Joe gave him a look. It clearly told him he was treading on thin ice. "Well, we worked together for almost ten years."

Smithers shrugged. "You'd have better luck asking Mr. Blunt. They usually have lunch together."

Joe sighed. "Okay, is Alex alright?"

Smithers gave him a look. Joe really shouldn't go poking into Blunt's arena, but the man knew that already. "We wouldn't let him out of the hospital if he wasn't."

Joe rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean."

Smithers sighed. Alex was Alex. Tulip was Tulip. In a way, they were both similar about dealing with their problems. Those two were also very private people. "As well as can be expected. Perhaps you should go talk to people."

Joe, unlike Alan Blunt, could take a hint. His eyes danced. "And perhaps I shall."

Joe wandered off. Smithers hoped the man didn't pull anything stupid. Incurring the wrath of Alan Blunt tended to shorten one's lifespan. Mrs. Jones was no slouch either.

Smithers decided it was time to plant the seeds for his prank. "Ms. Friend, have a Merry Christmas."

The girl took the envelope and thanked him automatically. Smithers chuckled inwardly. Payback time. Nobody had ever accused him of being overly mature about these sorts of things, he supposed. He had decided on a plain old prank grenade for Harris who looked absolutely shocked to be handed such a thing by a 'responsible adult'. They weren't used for agency devices due to the TSA's confiscation of even fake grenades. Plus, 'bankers' weren't supposed to carry prank grenades. Psssh. They were no fun to design for. At any rate, Tulip got some tracker gum, in case she was kidnapped. The CIA agents got a set of pens from him as an ironic gift. Everybody knew the Americans stole those designs from MI6. Really, he was just expediting the process a little. The SAS soldiers also got glitter bombs. Hey, he was getting Alex's payback for him. Besides, bedazzled SAS soldiers were hilarious on principle. Smithers wondered how much he would have gotten beat up if he had ever gone to the camp. Probably a lot, but the pranks would have been so worth it. James Sprintz and Sabina had been a little harder. He'd settled on some figurines that would passively scan their nearby environment and let Smithers know if they were in toxins or explosives trouble. He'd even gotten the right show if their identical smiles were any kind of indication. Smithers decided to sit back and enjoy watching people mill about at the party. To his surprise, the cooked food wasn't actually terrible, especially considering that a teenager made it. Tom had been surprisingly tasteful in picking his dishes. Pizza, sadly, gave him acid reflux. It was a pity because he actually liked it. Oh, well. It would have probably brought up bad memories for Alex anyway, due to the whole Mrs. Jones incident that he'd analyzed the bullet trajectory for. Smithers sat down to watch James Sprintz, of all people, bound in and practically Tiger bounce all over the room. The boy Alex had rescued from Point Blank. Smithers decided to go off in search of drinks. He sincerely hoped there was no booze. The last thing Alex needed was an alcohol problem or a friend with one. Ed Shulsky was sulking in the other corner. Did the man never get out? Smithers shrugged. Some people simply weren't extroverts.