Luka's whim to watch the preceding battle of evaluation seemed to prove a rather uneventful morning. His time had been spent examining all of Alpha team and its goings on, but since most had been taking leave this afternoon and the only two who hadn't were running the drill, it seemed only fitting to stay with them when extended the offer. It had been veteran officer Ben Airhart supervising, and A.T.L. sniper Piers Nivans running ground exams. As riveting as it was to watch ops back at home, these were puppies fresh into training and each one trying ot prove themselves by making their first big mistake of sending their only senior officer ahead to collect intel and then o hold position until they joined him at rendezvous point Whiskey Six. It left time to watch Ben in his... 'hair-raising' adventure of marking which soldiers follow orders, which make the better choices, playing the part of Headquarters for the man calling in orders. He would have preferred to be on the ground than up here, but he was an intel officer, sitting with a man who's mouth ran a mile a minute and time to spare. "Tell me agent... how many of these officers make it in your training programs... they seem to be running basic operations from the ground, nothing out of the ordinary. Have you run these before?"

"Charlie, sounds of distress to your backs, check surrounding buildings." Two fingers removed from the com switch that played out on the control panel before them, lightswitches going from green to red once his hands removed, pulling his mic out of place; flicking his gum over his teeth before sucking it back into his mouth, flattening it against the roof, popping it over his tongue and blowing a bubble the size of his fist. Slurping all the air back in, Ben shrugged his shoulders, finally giving his attention back to the russian who sat patiently, watching their comrade clear out 'enemies' played by other teams, his weapon dropping the air out of lungs with rubber bullets. "It don' work if they don' get hurt, at least that's what the captain says..." Swivel chair glided across the room, throwing a switch on the board and hitting the com device. "Delta, you've got movement at 12'oclock, meet with deadly force." Removing his hands again he waited for the chirp and a roger, before swirling back to face Luka. "I've done... I don' know... six of um? Nivans has done thirteen. Always does the field work though, he ain' interested in the up tops. Gotta say, guy can get 'er done though right?" A rough finger prodded one of the screens, pointing to the sniper as he rounded a corner and put two in the first person he saw, one in the head and one in the chest, never breaking stride before continuing on, calling in to his team leader and radioing the hit. "Wha' abou' yer boys in the U.S.S.R? You boys run the drills there?"

"No." Bored blue eyes followed the single agent moving alone, ignoring the rookies. He had a job, and he'd done it for the day, at the moment he was far more interested in one thing and one thing only. The defined body moved like a cat through a jungle when taking out enemies time and time again, always ready for combat or the next reroute at hand.

"Then wha' the Hell you boys do ta train yer rookies?"

"We don't. If they die, they fail."

"Cold man, jus' cold... Charlie mission reroute, take the alley to your east instead of the mainroads." Large shoulders rolled, working out the kinks by raising the joint and popping it behind his cranium, yawning as eyes covered all screens, continuing to pull each muscled joint into place where the relief yawned about them, as well as a gaping mouth, sucking in air and huffing it out to fog up the nearest screen. "So you Russians are really tha' cold huh man? Well ya know it happens... We ain' never let no one in col' turkey before. All our officers are hand picked grunts from the B.S.A.A. bullpen. Well... all of um bu' Nivans. Cap Redfield pulled 'im outta the force during a deep under op. No one ever questions cap, but it always seemed kinda weird... at least til ya got rookie boy Piers coverin' yer ass in the field. Then dun make much of a difference. Hell, he's the youngest... well ya already know tha.' OI! Charlie, check all yer fuckin' corners. Dumb ass gonna get 'imself killed!" Ben scrunched his face, scratching the fuzz that had grown passed his normal clean shaven pace, patchy and not at all attractive. "'m growin' it out... wha' ya think?"

"I think you remind me of Walker's grandmother."

"HAHAAHAHAHAAH! Well tha's for damn sure! Goo' one Russian."

The drill continued on for a short while, Luka shaking his head while watching down his straight nose over the monitors that followed Piers. It had been two weeks since he'd had a mission with the team. Not that he was depressed with nothing to do, he had almost a thousand files that he carried with him at all times. Mission recordings that Headquarters supplied him with once he'd run his primary evaluation. When he wasn't spending time with the officers and getting to know them, information about them, then he was reading through them. Each read similarly, and each one confirmed exactly how he felt on the matter. But then until his time here was over all he could do was observe, and it was redundant confirming everything when he had the oppurtunities to witness them himself. Airhart wasn't exactly the kind of man he was looking for, but Walker was, and Nivans was. There were other references that he found that suggested that in his prime so was Captain Redfield, but the man was a drunk and he wasn't going to approach him on the matter, not just drunken but completely disrespectful of orders and authority figures. No captain Redfield was a founder anyway, he wasn't going to be leaving the North American B.S.A.A. anytime in the near future. A heart throb, over qualified sniper with an authority complex on the other hand... Luka couldn't help but let his pale lips draw into a smile, examining as they moved up yet another block, Ben's hillbilly voice thundering in the background of his thoughts, while the forefront of toying with ideas before grabbing a headset. "These are connected to the... individuals? Which is agent Nivans?"

"His private channel? Uhh... he's on call cue 4 if you really wan' 'im but 'm not sure he'll answer. Fella gets pretty into it. He's got the second best recor' on the course. At leas' as the lead man. Cap Redfield has the bes' time. An' then you know I got the third, pretty darn proud of it too because...

"Nivans?" The blond's fingers were already sweeping through his hair, pushing it back, a strangely nervous habitual routine that seemed to overcome him around these men, particularly around the sniper that was continually chiding him for it. Ben was still rambling on about this old passed time that he received the third best score on. Ben wanted to be a higher up, wanted to make the brass someday unlike the lifers that he called Chris and Piers, people like Luka, who never turned away from the field until they were dead or too damn old that someone forced retirement on them and then they bought a nice caliber gun and finished the jobs themselves. The line was nothing but static as he listened on, blue eyes resting on the monitors trying to find the sure shot through the mess of what was going on below, foot falls and groups of men all bunched together like an ill formulated plot gone awry and converted into the worst laid plans of the century. It was a fire fight. The S.O.U. was a response team for stealth and tactical operations, these rookies looked like someone handed them a gun in the war against Stalin and rushed into the open battle field facing down tanks. They had no chance. Charlie team was slowly regrouping with some close calls by the H.Q. coordinator, otherwise known as Ben, but the other team hadn't asked for aid just yet and Ben was letting them fail, writing down all that he observed while talking about his favorite span of history being the war of 1812. It wasn't until he spotted Piers up top in a bell tower, scope trained down to cover retreat that he finally broke into a smile, pale features pulling into a smooth sharky grin. "You should aim higher... leg shots won't kill your enemies." Tawny hair raised, fingers raising from his grip to flip a bird upward at the sky, shaking that same head and taking the next two shots that hit two men right in the lower gut, purposefully knocking the wind out of them for Luka to see. "Heh... are you upset with me printsessa?"

'Printsessa? What do you want Lucky? I've got a job to do.'

The sharp tenor didn't bother Luka one bit, the mechanical com set fuzzing out with a tinny addition to that pinpoint voice, sliding the headset on completely and amusement making his hidden smile widen while sitting back in the chair, watching happily while Piers pulled position from the church now that his team was gone, taking the stairs from what he could see from the sliver light of the windows until he emerged again at the back steeple entrance. "I was wondering what you were doing today after this training exercise was complete. Surely you aren't too busy to grant me a single night?"

'Are you asking me out on a date Lucky?'

"And if I was?"

'Heh...' Piers looked up once from where he was standing against the wall, eyes never resting on the cameras that lay above them for this exercise but the point of the fact he knew that Luka was watching him etched perfectly on that lazy lifted brow before the perfect shaken and stirred mix of annoyance with amusement kissing the corners of full, down turned lips. 'Lucky we hardly even know each other, I'm not going out with you.'

"And if we knew one another better?"

'I might say yes just to entertain myself for a night, but we don't, dinner is off the table. Sorry Lucky.'

"I like the odds Printsessa... how about this... I will answer any five questions you have of me, truthfully on my honor, and you do the same. If you are appeased by my answers, you allow me one night. A single night. And we'll skip dinner." If Ben had been paying attention to the conversation he might have spit up his cola, but he was steadily feeding orders through to the opposing team while they spoke. Ego building in the Russian, as he raising long limbs that came rested at the ankle across the center console, following the actions of the other soldier while he traveled and traversed through an alleyway wasted of old dumpsters. It didn't seem to phase the sniper, just a quick check to every crevice, corner, and call back over the open channel to his team who were far behind and back again. "Unless of course... you are not up for such a challenge." He knew he had him as soon as the voice cut in and out again just as fast, watching the rise and fall of shoulders. The twist of his neck canting to pop the joint and that little tell tale sign of his when his jaw clenched. "Just as I thought... well perhaps it is better then-

' Five.'

Piers flashed a splayed hand upward at the camera, five digits that brought a chuckle from the captain. The captain bobbing his head as fingers swept through the golden locks, shifting in his seat. "Alright then... you first agent... since you have graced me to play." Piers ignored him for a long while, but it was evidently not out of distaste. He was busy dispatching other agents and keeping radio silence during an Headquarters demanded com freeze. He was counting on his fingers over and over until they reached deadline, body slinking along a wall right passed a foe before climbing the wall of the enclosure they were meant to breach. Forearms flexing as the lithe sniper pulled himself upward, straightening his arms before swinging over his legs and landing in a crouch, fingers sliding unseen to the com device at his side as the radio buzzed in Luka's ears, icy eyes transfixed on the way the younger man started setting up shop, first his rifle.

'... Why me?'

The obvious question. Russian slightly exotic features narrowed at the screen, watching the detailed movements that was afforded such a well versed soldier, each single step done systematically as though an autopilot had taken over, but the love and care in those hands that moved his rifle and set up the bipod, flicked open the mag holder and slipped more rubber rounds with a jamming motion into place, hugging the weapon to his shoulder and hunting for the right angle, while silence filled the air. It was a game of cat and mouse, and though he'd expected the question there was no splitting hairs with one Piers Nivans, the man had a way about him that cut through the bullshit. It was endearing to Luka, he liked the brutal nature that masked an inner core no one was permitted to see. It was a narrow field he had to play with. Tell him too much and he would back out instantly, tell him too little and suffer the same consequences. It was risky and the added pressure of answering while on the clock made it all the more difficult. All the more challenging. A thing they both had quite in common. Rise the the occasion. "Because you are exotic. You are a caged animal, locked in a place where those around you only stop and admire. They do not appreciate what they have. A creature like yourself is put to waste when he can find no reprieve from the overly mundane that is offered him. Its only right that two exotic creatures find themselves together, is it not?" Luka smirked as he watched the answer registering with his observed and smirked as that slick tongue darted out from parted lips again, licking his upper tier. "Good... my answer pleases you. You know this game is quite fun agent. You react like a lie detector. That clench of the jaw when you stifle your thoughts... the little flick of your tongue when something interests you," the cool of his tone never urged discomfort on softer features, taking his chiding in stride and spurring the captain on his voice hitching when he got no desired reaction from his observations. "My turn. What's your favorite color?"

'You're kidding me?' Piers face scrunched up before shrugging his shoulders, placing fake remote mines around the perimeter. 'Khaki. Boxers or briefs?'

"Neither." The answer made the soldier on screen practically stumble, the question obviously was a joke or an attempt to make the blond feel some discomfort, though it only served its purpose better. Chuckling while glancing to the side at Ben who was now staring at him from the exotic animal speech he'd given, chewing on a toothpick with a mild disgust on his face along with some disbelief shaking his head. Luka cocking his head to the side in a questioning manner, while he poke again to Piers, and eyed the other agent, obviously something on his mind. "Favorite food?"

"You really tryin' to ge' Nivans... on a date? You do know tha' he's go' a woman right? He's damn near married to the job. I mean I know he's go' a pretty mouth, but he's no' into tha' shit..."

Curiosity peeked and the captain sat up, giving his attention swiftly from the com device to Ben. "You know who she is?"

'Steak. How many women have you been with?'

"I have been with only four in my life time and you have read my file agent Nivans... None of which were overlapping the other. There is no concern of that happening. You are far too valuable for that."

"Yeah I know 'er. Never leaves his damn side."

'More concerned that you think being with a woman means you know how to handle a man.'

"Do not concern yourself with such things agent, rest assured. I know exactly what to do with you. Do you believe in an afterlife?" It wasn't difficult maintaining the two conversations and he was well versed in the arts of multitask; particularly when he was finally getting the answers he wanted. "What is her name agent Airhart? I've not had the pleasure." Turning to give Airhart his full attention, fingers steeped together, examining his face while listening to a long exasperated statement in his ear over how if snipers took a long look at themselves in a mirror after the jobs they had then they would all come to the same conclusions. Piers always had that exasperated way about him, the kind looking for a straight forward answer, such was the point of giving him one that would take time and calculation. At least it had seemed it would take time. The ace marksman obviously understood that giving and taking information was necessary, let others draw their own conclusions based on the clipped responses. "If all snipers thought the same I wouldn't be interested in this game agent Nivans." He smirked watching the body language from the corner of his eyes, examining Airhart while he threw another set of faulty instructions toward the rest of the team.

"'er name is death ya dumb shit, everyone knows her. Course ya met 'er. Take a goo' look a' tha' screen."

Luka turned in his chair to examine the scene playing out before him. As the place was finished being set up and Piers cut his answer at a short sweet, 'no I don't believe in an afterlife, and made request over the radio about when was was his first time,' enjoying as the man finished his workand took up position at the town's square, body to the heap of concrete structure that spat water jettisoned into the air from the mouths of large stone fishes. Piers dropped his head against the cold stone wall of the fountain to his back, legs propped apart with his rifle resting between them, brushing his hands up and over; stroking the belly of the weapon. Heat radiated off his person, little droplets, and spray flecking across his face and cooling under each of their kisses, slow measured breaths taking in oxygen around him while the team continued to play catch up. His mind was elsewhere... everywhere but the mission at hand which was just a petty little trial run to see how long it took new recruits to run a town square op. And he wasn't even fixated on the questions that Luka continually answered clearly and precisely as though they were average questions. "Fourteen. I married her."

Clear the setting, that was all they had to do, but since it was a dry run the designated leader pulled stupidity and gave Piers the scout job. He wasn't a pointman, he was a sniper, and they sent him in first to clear up, meaning all the other side routes had to be cleared up by all those inexperienced dumb shits that didn't understand a proper training drill. He'd be sitting here another hour before they caught up with him, an hour left to reminiscence. An hour to let his hands play with the barrel of his rifle and slide down precariously, his mind with it to the ejection port, catching on the edges before his spare hand slipped contentedly away into the magazine rig on his upper thigh, emerging successful with a bullet that was pressed to his own lips, parting his lips and flicking his tongue against it once while those diligent digits rubbed continually over the place each shell emerged once spent, catching his glove on it every time that the tips dragged over the rim, a familiar heat taking seat in his stomach and burning low, simmering while the world died away and his thoughts traveled to the first mission he'd shared here, only he'd been the rookie, and Chris was his evaluation officer. There had been a back story. A long one between the two soldiers that seemed to stretch a lifetime of sexual tension, but not either one was willing to share with others. They were soldiers, not the type for mucked up fantasy, all he knew was that in the cool of the fountain water, brushing olive skin and his hands floating expertly over the contours of his rifle. With Luka purring in his ear, he could still hear Chris screaming instructions over the com at him from back in the day. Luka raised his brow watching Piers zone out entirely, watching the knowing hands caress the 'lady' in his hands and immediately a smile broke over his features, peeling off the com set and putting it away, not concerning with finishing his other questions. Each one answered a specific set of things about the sniper, but that one answered so much more, hand on the door to the observation deck. "Thank you... agent, for this most educational process." He would have to forgo dinner... it was time to change tactics.