Jarred from his experience, Scout sat back down apprehensively on his lawn chair. The fire had begun to die down, leaving slightly glorified embers stirring in the dark ashes of what used to be firewood. Everyone was drunk, even the Engineer; though he didn't show it much.
The Texan put his guitar down and stared into the sky. He squinted as if trying to decipher something.
"I think it's best we all go ta bed now," he said. "It's 'bout 3 in tha mornin'."
The team, except Scout, gave a collective, exaggerated groan.
"We was just getting' started," griped the Sniper, slinging his beer into the air. Half the contents sloshed out, landing on the dirt in front of him.
"Now look, you're sa drunk ya cain't even hold yer drink correctly," said the Engineer. The Sniper opened his mouth to say something, but stopped.
The team, all with variously controlled movement, folded up their chairs and headed inside. Scout hadn't noticed this all night, but the Spy hadn't attended the celebration. He always attended celebrations, even if he just brooded in the corner and smoked.
As he trod down the empty, white halls of each class's room, he stopped at the Spy's. He could hear nothing inside, but the door was slightly open. That's strange, he thought, the Spy always closes his door, no matter what.
He knocked lightly because he felt socially obligated to, but honestly he didn't want the Spy to know he was there. As the door creaked open just the slightest, Scout peeked in.
The Spy was hunched over something, his back turned. His usual squiggle of smoke trailed from his mouth. It was completely dark in the room, except for the moon casting yellow stripes across the blackened floor. There was something on his head...Scout gasped. It was his hair! Scout could see the Spy's hair!
"Mask!" Scout yelped, dropping his chair. It made no sense, but Scout did it and he didn't know why.
The clanging noise from the metal chair caused the Spy to swivel his head. It was so dark that the Scout couldn't see the Spy's face. However, he did see the whites of his eyes widen and then close. He figured that meant he was hastily stuffing his baklava back on.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" said the Scout, jumping back into a defensive position. "I didn't know you had ya mask off, man!"
The Spy stumbled to the light switch and flicked it on. From under the fold of his mask, he gave the Scout a cold glare.
"Vat are you doing 'ere?" he hissed.
"Why weren't ya at the celebration?" asked the Scout.
"It is no concern of yours."
"C'mon man, I won't tell nobody."
"You are but a leetle boy. You do not need to know, for eet is none of your business." With that, the Spy slammed the door. He left the Scout standing at his door in bewilderment.
The Bostonian didn't bother picking up the chair. He simply wandered about the hallway until he found the Engineer's room. He knocked.
"Come on in," rang the warm, Texan accent. Scout had always rather liked that accent; he would have traded it for his own in a heartbeat.
Scout opened the door to reveal Engineer tuning his guitar. He was listening to country music on his radio. As the Scout stepped in, the man turned down the volume.
"What brings you here, Scout?" asked the Engineer, plucking the thickest string on his guitar.
"I came to ask ya some...er, questions," replied the younger man. He couldn't find a chair to sit on, so he uncomfortably settled on the Engineer's bed. There was a knitted, multicolored quilt on it.
"Nice. Where'd ya get the quilt?" he asked.
"My mama made it a long time ago, long before you were born," answered the Engineer. "That wasn't yer question, was it?"
"Ah...nah, man, nah." The Scout fumbled with the stitches on the quilt. Then, he brought himself to look at Engineer.
"Uh...have ya seen da Spy actin'...weird, lately?" he asked.
"Boy howdy, that man's always up to somethin'. I hadn't noticed anything different. Have you?"
"Uh...nah. I was jus' wonderin'."
"M-hm. And yer other question?" The Engineer brought his goggles up from his instrument to look at the Scout. He stopped messing with the strings and it fell silent. The only sound was crickets chirping and the radio giving off a muffled, static-riddled Southern tune.
"Uh...is dere, like, a daycare anywhere around here or somethin'?" The Scout managed. The Engineer furrowed his brow.
"Not...that I know of. I don't believe there's anything within miles a this place."
"Oh, alright. Thanks man." The Scout hurriedly pushed himself off the bed and rushed for the doorknob.
"Scout?"
"...Yeah?"
"Why'd ya ask that?"
The boy paused for a second, only peering at the man with his peripheral vision.
"Ah...I was jus' curious." Scout opened the door and slammed it behind him.
He jogged down the hall until he arrived at his own room. As he opened the door, the scent of rancid socks and grease wafted into his nose. To another, it would have been putrid, but to the Scout it was home sweet home.
He kicked off his shoes. They hit the wall with a loud thunk. Across from his room, the Soldier screamed at the Scout.
"Hey! Some of us are trying to sleep here! Quiet down or I'll go over there and make you!" he warbled. The Scout payed the man no attention, only plopped onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. In a mixture of exhaustion and drunkenness, the boy drifted into sleep.
(A/N: I apologize for the very short chapter, but as most fanfiction writers carry on, I've been busy with school and homework and projects and blah, blah, blah.)