Flaming human being

Carson tried to hide his surprise...and his excitement. If Misty wanted to come more often, he certainly wouldn't say no to that. On one hand, he couldn't deny that it made it a little harder on him...being so close to her without treating her like his wife. On the other hand, it meant she didn't hate him anymore, and that was a step in the right direction.

"You can come whenever you want," he assured. "Even if you show up unannounced, I don't mind."

The next hour or so went quickly as food orders were filled, and soon Carson found himself alone in the kitchen again while the girls served tables. Something he really didn't like to do had been made brighter for just a little bit, and he was grateful. Now though, his mind reverted to what Misty had told him when she'd arrived - what had upset her so badly in the first place. He'd done a good job at setting aside his anger for the moment, but now that she was gone, it was back in full force. And he was not going to tolerate something like this happening...


Though Scott's eyes fell, he listened to Nate and Dalton, trying to believe that Garret had no ill-intent. It was hard. Garret was Agency. That's all Scott could see. He tried not to. He knew about Carson and Gage, and others who had been successfully reformed. But every time he saw an Agency face, he had to fight the inner data that tried to take over his mind. He'd just as soon not have to deal with any of those faces ever again...but he knew as long as he worked here, that wasn't an option.

Without saying anything, he simply turned and left. His mind was going a thousand directions, and communicating further would end in disaster. He needed peace. Quiet. Something to clear his head. He didn't mean to just walk away from Nate and Dalton like that. He didn't mean to be rude. He just...couldn't process everything that was happening.

Trudging down the hall, he fully intended on returning to his own desk, but something made him stop at a different office, instead. Peeking around the half-open door, he spotted Hope. She looked busy. He knocked lightly. "Can...can I come in?" he asked softly. "And just...sit?"


Downstairs, Garret worked out his frustrations on the punching bag. He wasn't beating himself bloody, but almost, and the sweat poured down the sides of his face. There was something inside of him. Programming. Agency-planted programming that made it nearly impossible to betray them like he was trying to do now. Even though he wanted to help break this case, just trying to hack into the system to find out what really was going on was difficult. Was it fear? Maybe. But it was only a fear that had been ingrained in him since he'd been a small child. Never buck the system. Never ask why. Never, ever challenge the leader. And he was now a full-out traitor.

A series of kicks reddened the tops of his feet as he continued to work out. He would beat this. He would conquer it. He would not remain under the rule of Medridge or anyone like him. At the same time, he knew he'd walked a fine line today, and he was waiting for another boom to be lowered. He knew good and well he wasn't allowed to touch any computers on his own around here, and he'd broken that rule.

His fists went back to work. He had to figure out how to function. He had to figure out how to find his place. But at the moment...it felt impossible.


It was close to early evening by now, and Kirk was ready to call it a day. At least from the Elite office. He hadn't spoken to anyone else after Dalton's little protective speech, even though his list wasn't done yet. Mostly he'd done his own research, but after today...he hadn't been able to accomplish what he'd wanted. And he wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to. Which might or might not affect his job. 

Leaving the Elite, he got in his car and drove back through town, stopping at a gas station to fill up. As he was standing beside his car watching the numbers on the pump change, his mind stuck to his work, leaving him completely unaware that someone was approaching from behind. Without warning, his arm was cranked behind his back, his foot hooked to set him off balance, and his face slammed slammed onto the trunk of his car. Though kicking back, his assailant knew how to avoid it, and when his free hand reached for his gun, he found his holster empty. Whoever this was, was good enough to scare him just a little. With his face pressed against the car, he gasped for breath. "What do you want?!"

"I want you to start acting like a flaming human being instead of a dingaling with the brain of a wombat," the voice hissed. 

Kirk continued to struggle, but all it earned him was more pressure on his arm. What was that accent? Australian? "Who are you?" Suddenly he was released and spun around, now lying back across the car with a strong forearm to his neck. "Carson?" 

If Carson's eyes could have shot lightning, they would have. "If you ever put my wife through what you did today again, so help me, you'll be eating through a straw the rest of your life." 

Kirk shifted his weight just enough to get out of the hold, but was immediately set back by a punch to the mouth. Licking at he blood, he decided it wasn't worth the effort at this point, and he remained still, breathing heavily. "I was just doing my job," he defended. 

"Cods wallop! You had no right." Carson sensed someone behind him, and turned to glare at the station attendant. "Back off," he growled. "This doesn't concern you." The young man put up his hands and slowly backed away from the scene. Carson turned back to Kirk. "If you have anything to say about me or my past, then you come to me. How dare you interrogate Misty!" 

Kirk swallowed hard. This man meant business. "I thought you two weren't even close anymore."

"That is absolutely no concern of yours." Carson's jaw was set tightly. "Lay off. Or you will be sorry you ever stepped foot into the Elite office." 

"Is that a threat?" 

"You better believe it." Carson finally released him and stepped back out of reach. He pointed a final warning finger at the agent. "Consider yourself lucky to have learned how we function around here before you got yourself killed. You watch your step... 'cause you're awfully close to several landmines." 

Kirk straightened up and wiped his lip as he watched Carson stalk away to his car, then drive away. "Of all the stupid..." Realizing his gun was lying on the ground, he picked it up and checked it over before holstering it again. What on earth had just happened? 

After finishing up with the gas, he got back in his car and just sat for a few moments. Finally he pulled out his phone and opened up his texts. 

To Adison: I need a drink. But u know Im trying to cut back. How about coffee?

Travis' jaw dropped at Ashlee's intentional start to a food fight, and without even thinking, he flicked a french fry in her direction. 

From across the table, Clint rolled his eyes. "Children, children. I thought we had better manners than this." 

Travis shot a look at him. "You're just jealous 'cause you don't have good enough aim to fight with the likes of us."

"Ohhh, low blow, dude, low blow." Clint took both hands and shot his own french fries in each of their directions - one hit Ashlee in the face, while the other shot right past Travis to land on the floor. 

"Denied!" Travis took a turn with a grape and got Clint square in the chest. 

Over at the other table, Dylan remained quiet, but his eyes were now in their direction, watching their antics.