He tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for his ride. The last few weeks replayed in his mind as he tried to alleviate his nervousness. He'd been transferred to this new unit not too long ago and was still trying to puzzle out the other people around him. He wasn't much for puzzles, so it was quite a task. He liked his Commanding Officer and that was a pleasant change. Colonel Mustang was very friendly, had a good sense of humor, and so far hadn't demanded too much. It made his second in command, Lt. Hawkeye seem very odd and probably colder than she actually was. There seemed to be some sort of special connection between the two, but since he had only heard her say fewer than a hundred words in all of those weeks he had yet to figure it out. He knew the files back and forth, knew they had a history, but where they were now was confusing.

Next in line for the chain of command was another Lt. He had actually liked "Havoc" as he preferred to be called. The man was friendly in a bar-buddy kind of way and helped him settle in, even coming by his apartment to help unpack. He was kind of starting to think they might actually be friends, but for some reason he was still uneasy about tonight. Lt. Breda was next after Havoc. This man flat out scared him. Breda had a very keen mind, much keener than one would suspect after first glance. He also seemed slippery in some way, a little bit dirty. He was friendly enough, but there was still something a little off. The same could be said for Master Sergeant Feury. He didn't mind being called Kain, was almost as casual as Havoc, but there was still something unsettling. He had also helped him move in, installing all of his electronics and phone lines. It was his specialty. He looked more innocent than someone who specialized in espionage had a right to be.

The car pulled up to the corner disturbing his thoughts. Havoc appeared as the window rolled down, cigarette clamped between wide smiling lips. He exchanged greetings as he slipped into the passenger seat. As he tightened his seatbelt he heard the doors click locked and was very glad for the extra gun he'd slipped into pants. When asking if he wanted to hit a bar tonight Havoc had appeared too forced, his new comrades in the room listening a little too closely. He didn't miss the look exchanged between Hawkeye and Havoc when he'd agreed. Shortly after that she had gone down to the gun range and he felt even more unsettled. A one on one meeting with Mustang afterwards had made him even more tense. The man had asked question after question about how he was doing, was he liking the work, had his old superiors kept in touch, etc. It seemed to be normal enough except for the fact that Mustang kept his special gloves on the entire time and Hawkeye was standing at attention on the other side of the door when he left.

A car door slamming broke his thoughts and he climbed out his side, looking around for the first time. It was a seedy neighborhood, but not too far from his. He couldn't see a bar anywhere. He jumped when Havoc's hand fell on his shoulder.

"Havoc, there is no bar on this street."

"I know, man. We're going someplace a little more private for our drink." The hand pushed a little, forcing him to walk or fall. He went with it. They walked about half a block in this fashion before he was steered into a little side alley. A key was fished out with Havoc's other hand and he was lightly pushed into a room. As the lights flicked on he took in his surroundings. A small apartment, lots of windows, one shared kitchen/living room, small bathroom, a closed door leading probably to a bedroom. The streetlamps were dark outside the windows and he could only see blackness as he tried to look out of them. "Have a seat." Havoc removed his slightly offending hand, locking the door and moving towards the table. The Lt. kicked out a chair towards him and poured two shots from the bottle of bourbon on the table. He sat down slowly, the gun digging into his lower back very comforting. Havoc leaned back in his chair, swinging his long legs up to let his boots rest on the edge of the table. The flick of the lighter made him jump again as the younger man breathed in deeply of a slightly wrinkled cigarette. "So, the colonel says you're good."