"And just a few days ago, I was out minding my own business, when I got hit with some kind of dart that knocked me out cold. When I woke up, I was in that crate, with no idea as to where I was. I swear, when I get my claws on whoever brought me here, it won't be pretty."
"Well, now's your chance," said Soldier, pointing to Sniper, "I have reason to believe that this man has requested that you be brought here."
"For the last time," replied Sniper, a trace of exhaustion in his voice, "I didn't request anything, and lions don't come from Australia." For the past few hours, the mercenaries had been listening to Simba's life story and how he became king of his homeland. It was only a half an hour until noon, and the team was back in the mess hall along with Simba, who looked like he had never been indoors before.
"Sure is cold in here," he remarked.
"Well, yeah, we've got the air on 'cause it's hot outside," said Scout, "But I guess you like it hot where you're from, huh?"
"Yeah," Simba answered, "Speaking of which, when do you think I'll get back?"
"We're not exactly sure about that, Simba," Engineer told him, "but once our boss gets here, we may have an idea of how long you'll be here."
"Not too long, I hope. I've got family back home."
"We all do, partner. We all do." Suddenly, the mess hall doors burst open, making the entire team jump and Simba dive under the table. When the dust cleared, the mighty Saxton Hale stood in the doorway, light glistening off of his physique.
"Alright, hippies," he addressed the men, "where's this lion you've been blabbering about?"
"Down here," Simba called from underneath the table. He had yet to understand the ways of these people.
"He's over here, Helen," Saxton told The Administrator, who had just walked in, "What do you think we should with him?" Helen knelt on the floor so she could get a better look at Simba. After carefully examining him, she stood up.
"Do you have the crate he came in," she asked. Saxton nodded.
"Then the best thing to do is find out who captured him in the first place, then maybe we can convince them to return him to his natural habitat. He'll have to stay here until then."
"Wait, we have a mission tomorrow," said Spy, "What do we do with him then?"
"You should be grateful that it was your team that found him," Helen answered, "as it appears you now have a great advantage over the BLU Team. After all, I highly doubt they have a real predator on their side.
"How about it, Herr Simba," asked Medic, "Would you be interested in killing tomorrow?"
"I wouldn't mind killing things," Simba replied crawling out from under the table, "considering I've done it plenty of times before. But for now, I could really use a nap." Just like that, Simba collapsed onto the ground and fell asleep.
"You'd better move him, Mr. Hale," Helen said to the large Australian, "I don't want anyone tripping over him." Without much effort, Saxton flung Simba over his shoulder and tossed him into a random bedroom.
"Well then," she said to the mercs, "Enjoy the rest of your day off," and exited the mess hall.
Later that night, Scout walked into his bedroom to get some sleep after the long day, only to find Simba already lying on his bed.
"Dude," he said, "What are you doing in my room?"
"This is where that strong guy threw me after I fell asleep," Simba answered, "and I've been lying here ever since."
"Whatever," replied Scout, too tired to care, "You mind making room?"
"Not at all," Simba responded, and moved so Scout had a place to lie down. Scout pulled off his shoes and socks and got into his bed, turning his back to Simba.
"G'night," Simba said.
"Yeah, sure," Scout replied, and the two let sleep take them over.
"You better not snore."
"You have gotta be frickin' kidding me."