There was a tension that filled the room, but Sam was more unnerved by the fact the guard was still here. He wasn't too keen on him listening. Not that he was here under questionable motive, he just didn't like being watched. Call it Splinter Cell intuition.

Either of them said nothing for five minutes, just watching eachother.

"Clock's ticking, Fisher." Ugh, fuck off already, Sam thought,, that guard getting on his last nerves.

Not that it would do much good, the room was more than likely bugged, Sam lowered his voice, hoping to reach a familiar comfort level with Frank in this hell hole.

"You look good, Frank."

Frank didn't hesitate a response.

"What do you want?"

Sam couldn't say he was startked by Frank's disgression; this wasn't the place to get cozy and let his guard down.

"How did you find me?"

Sam raised a brow. "Running and hiding from me?" He smirked. Frank didn't respond.

"Bloggers.

Figures, Frank thought.''

"You haven't answered me."

Sam paused. He didn't know what to say. Hell, he didn't know why he was here. He just felt he needed to be.

All of the things sam wanted to ask, to ask if this was where he was going when he disappeared- but it made him look weak. Stupid. What they shared wasn't exactly kosher by the feds. Not exactly regulation. A killer and a government agent. Just ten months ago Sam was assigned to kill this man. And yet he beds him on the frequent.

"Command needs a report from me." He lied, putting on a show for the guard, for the microphones under the chairs, for the men behind the glass.

Sam had lowered his voice with his words, looking Frank directly in the eyes, Frank looking back at him just as intensely, as if they were communicating, understanding every word. He read Sam like a spine-worn book. He knew everything, despite Sam's dilligence and persona. There was no hiding anything between them, they were too well trained for that.

Frank watched him unflinchingly, knowing exactly what he meant. Sam was checking up on him. Ever the mother hen, he thought. The lonely and bored old man.

Frank sighed, his way of expressing to Sam that he understood.

Sam wanted to ask if he knew when he would be out, so badly- though he would never admit it. Not to mention the guard might find it odd.

Frank probably wouldn't respond anyway.

Being that he had coveted the requirement of maximum security, he had to lead these goons off of his trail. Not that it mattered, they would never go after him willingly, let alone catch him.

"Are we done here?"

No time for pleasantries.

"Yes." Sam paused. "We're done."

Frank laid his hands flat on the table, watching Sam intently. Sam, just as he did.

Frank's features softened slightly before standing, Sam forgetting to breathe.

He watched the man get toiled off, another guard entering the room.

Sam looked up to him, his face scowled and glowering, a sigh escaping.

It took the guard a moment before he spoke.

"If you'll follow me, Mister Fisher, we'll return your belongings."