Cole's Room

Description: Painted in navy blue with grey trim, Cole's room is almost always a mess. Clothes lie in mounds in and around the wire laundry hamper in the corner alongside his free standing closet. Magazines and books of all sorts are scattered across the floor ranging from archery to comic books to light novels of all sorts. Against one corner of the room is his queen sized bed with a memory foam mattress, one of his few luxuries here. At the foot of the bed is a high security storage trunk, reinforced against all kinds of unwanted entry. That was where he stored his bows and nobody...nobody touched his bow but him. Beyond the trunk and mounted on the wall was a medium sized television connected to a video game system. Oddly enough, there was little in the way of decorations. A picture of his graduating class from military school and Rangers training, a poster of the Chicago Bulls' multiple championships, and finally a small painting over the head of his bed depicting a single bowman in a snow-covered forest with broad, rough strokes.

<---------- Steeler's

Between her leaving their fearless leader's bunker of an office and now, she'd come up with an order of who she wanted to chat with, starting with everyone's favourite, ladder-climbing officer. Popping to a halt at her partner's door, she doesn't knock or even really think before entering the code and waltzing right in.

The room was a disaster, as always.

But it suited him, in a strange way, and she'd come to respect (mostly) his space as being very personal.

But that bed.

Ooo, she loved that bed. She'd never put much thought into her own room on base, as she kept an apartment elsewhere as insurance..and as a place to decompress after particularly difficult missions. So here, she had only a full mattress that was more than big enough for her to curl up in and not give another thought to the world. It worked, just as the sparse trimmings throughout her space "worked".

The man she was coming to see was sprawled out on that glorious bed, tossing a basketball in the air and looking just as he usually did: bored. Skirting the mess on the floor, she makes her way to the foot of the bed, knowing full well he knew she was here.

But that didn't stop her from doing her favourite thing.

No, she ignored any looks she may have been shot, to line up perfectly with the edge of the bed, before taking a gleeful leap into the air, twisting over to land with a happy "huff" on her back.

Blowing her stray wisps of hair out of her face, she watches his lethodical movements.

"We get to go talk with Stu. Actually, I do, but I thought you might like to join me."

She'd gotten here faster than he'd expected. Steeler must not have had much more to tell their resident intelligence operative in comparison to the rest of them. Here is freaking comes... he moaned to himself as she sashayed her way to the end of his bed. It was essentially a ritual by now, her odd fixation with his bed. Then again, he couldn't fully blame her. This beauty was a head and shoulder above that standard issue slab of a mattress in her room on the base. Tossing the ball as she flung herself down, he made sure to shift his aim as well as his shoulder just enough to give her a comfortable, uninterrupted landing. Though he would never admit it, he didn't hate her intrusions like this. The warmth of her body pressed against his own and the smell of her hair were quiet comforts in his otherwise plain living space.

So they were targeting Stu first then? Made enough sense to him. The guy was just plain odd. Half his history smelled like bullshit and the other half just incited a deep need to kill something whenever Cole thought about it. "You get to talk with him eh? What's the matter? Afraid I won't be wonderfully upbeat and social with my best buddy, Stu?" he asked as the ball came down again. It smacked against his palms with an audible impact and remained there, suspended in his hands as he turned his face towards Harkness.

She shimmied a little, getting comfortable next to him. She hadn't umped far enough to land with her feet on this wonderful, downy contraption, so she wasn't able to look directly over to him as she responds,

"Oh God, no." She slaps his thigh lightly. "I'm just terrified you two won't shut up once you get going."

There is a grin barely hidden on her lips as she twists around to her stomach, leaving no room between them. the spy studies her partner with that same half-smirk for only a second before continuing.

"Besides, I know how much you will just love hearing about his most recent promotion. That I just happened to be there for."

Palming the basketball with his left hand, the archer set it down over the edge of the bed, taking care to roll it fully under the bed frame. The last time he'd tossed the thing down without looking, he'd wound up taking a header after stepping on it waking up from a nap. Lesson learned; pay attention. As he tended to his favorite piece of sports equipment, even the normally grim Cole had to chuckle at Eleanor's insinuation. Stu was oddly loved or hated by the people on base but even the people who disliked him managed to hide their resentment behind professionalism. Cole was not one of those people. Professional manners were a chore, open animosity was easy.

"Riiiiight, heard about that one. What did he do this time? Catch a three headed dog? Kill a dragon with his bare hands?" he asked, laying the droll tone of his voice on especially thick to mock Stu's utterly ridiculous combat record.

Eleanor flicks back a few strands of blonde hair as he puts the ball away, but her smile falls when he throws out a question. Huffing, she flops her head down on one of her arms, face first into the tantalizing comforter.

"Ugh. You know, I don't ask for much," her voice is muffled and slightly distorted, "but there comes a time in which I would like credit."

Her head pops up and her eyes are immediately on her partner's.

"I may or may not have sprung a leak in a certain country's information system, that may or may not have given us a head's up about a certain vampire problem that may or may not have ended up over here."

She huffs again, and plops her head back onto the bed.

"I thought some routine techie would get it, or at least a low-level grunt officer but nooooo. Guess who just happened to be there? Ughhh. And his promotion papers just came in."

It was odd for her actual emotion to seep into her words, though with Cole, it had been known to happen more than once. Her golden locks pop back up and the well-trained neutral face was back on.

"So, you and I get to hear about it and so much more when we got talk to him."

She prods him slightly, as though encouraging him to be the first out of the bed and on their way; of course, she was going to spend as much time in the delicious, puffy mattress.

Though disappointing, Eleanor's story didn't surprise him. They were spies and assassins. Despite doing most of the leg work and the dirty jobs that others wanted to avoid, they rarely got any of the credit they deserved. Just didn't work that way. That much he could deal with, but a kiss ass like Stu getting the glory? That fucking hurt. And so he sat there silently listening to her complain as he usually did, right up until she started prodding him to get up and moving for once. Being the unparalleled gentleman that he was, he promptly yawned in her face before rolling over to present his back to her. However, even he wasn't quite that insensitive to responsibility and the prospect of heckling the golden boy did seem fun so he stayed in the position for only a moment before continuing the roll off the mattress, landing feet first and rising to his full height. She looked so disgustingly comfortable in his bed. Couldn't very well have that. He gave her all of 20 seconds of blissful peace before reaching down to haul her off the bed by her belt.

"C'mon, Eleanor. Let's go have some fun."

When he rolls over - finally - she grins to herself and settles happily back onto the bed, sprawled out and clinging lazily to the covers. That bliss is short-lived, however, as her much taller (and to be fair, much stronger) partner hoists her off her earthly heaven.

She grunts like a pissed off puppy at his antics, swatting at him to put her down. Once both feet are on the ground, she shifts around a bit, straightening her very civilian clothing and wagging a perfectly polished nail at him.

"You know, the next time your hands are on my custom-tailored belt, you better already have some fun planned."

Her usual spark was back in place, and she tip-toes expertly back around the landmines of clothing and magazines to exit his room without a backwards glance.

-------->To Stu

==> Infirmary

Moving down the hallway at a brisk jog, the archer made sure to keep up his pace as he slipped between passing guards during the short trip to his nearby room. Entering the crash site of clothing and personal effects he called a room, Cole shut the door behind him and engaged the manual lock just in case anyone managed to make their way up here in the short time he'd be changing. Then again, he doubted that anyone of the convicts on site were fast enough to pull that trick off considering how relatively light his loadout would be. Already clad in a black t shirt, grey cargo pants, and light grade boots, there wasn't much more he'd need to put down a riot like this.

Sliding to the armored security trunk at the foot of his bed, Brandon punched in the access code and wrenched it open to reveal his personal gear. First came the suppression vest and grenade harness. There weren't any vampires or lycans on the most recent convict list he'd read so the sound dampening abilities of the vest were unnecessary but just in case any of the prisoners got their hands on firearms Cole wanted the added security of some kevlar plating in between his chest and any stray rounds.

The second pieces of equipment were his ear piece and automated quiver. The lack of supernatural targets once again factored into Brandon's equipment choice, selecting the blessed steel and teargas filled quiver over the silver equipped alternative. Within a moment of the quiver being strapped to his back, Brandon was already strapping a spare magazine to his belt along with his throwing knives. Ideally this would all be over before he ever needed them but better safe than sorry.

The last and most important item was of course the bow itself. The archer resisted the urge to simply savor the heft of the weapon's rubberized grip in his hand and simply shut the trunk, reengaging the high security lock. No time to zone out now. Ever second he wasted was another second the cons were raging out of control.

The assassin slipped out of his room, closing the door once again before heading down the hall at a dead run when the voice of Steeler's personal assistant rang in his ears. Bringing up his free hand to hit the reply button, Cole didn't break his stride.

"Cole here. People are dying. Going to fix the problem. Move your ass, Eleanor," he said, confident that Harkness would be listening in on her end.

===> Exit

====> Riot Topic

The excitement was over for now. With the electricity flowing once more, the obedience collars had taken the fight out of the convicts almost immediately and the lengthy process of rounding them up was better left to the grunts and guards stationed throughout the base. As far as Cole was concerned, he'd done his fair share and was entitled to a nap or three for his trouble. Preferably sooner considering the fact that he'd have to work up some sort of report as soon as Steeler heard about this insanity and roared back onto back like hell on wheels. Talk about a hassle but he'd just have to cross that bridge when he came to it.

Kneeling down to his specialized security locker, Brandon wordlessly deposited his bow and gear into their proper resting place before sealing the small safe with an audible hiss. With his weapons safely stored away, the archer wasted no time in stripping out of the sweat and blood covered clothing covering his slightly aching form. Boots, socks, shirt, and pants were carelessly deposited in a messy heap next to his laundry hamper before he retrieved a clean towel to wipe himself down. The final step to his relaxation was to light the scented candle he kept stored in his bedside table to clear out any residual scent of smell and death he may have dragged in. With his preparations complete, he flopped onto his bed clad in his boxers with an extended groan and blindly fumbled for his television remote.

<------------ Claire's Room

The barracks were all but deserted at this point, what with every available hand going towards quelling the riots and dealing with the injured. But the three of them - the medic, the archer, and the spy - had done more than their fair share, and she for one was going to get her reward.

She was more than certain the medic hadn't stayed in her room.

That was a fact that intrigued the blonde even more; there were very few good people on the base, and Claire was a beacon of just that: good. It made her special, and it made Eleanor cautious; she didn't want to ruin something that good.

Putting aside such thoughts, the spy strides past the hall to her own room and turns down the one for Cole's. She hadn't donned the chest plate again, and her mask and helmet were still gathered in her hand. She halts at his door long enough to key in his code. As soon as the door slides open, she is in the dark room, stepping with purpose around his dangerous piles of stuff.

Eleanor knows he's got a good idea who just waltzed into his room, so she doesn't hesitate to drop her gear in the floor. Her eyes are blown wide, and she knows it isn't from the poor lighting; his body is a thing to stare at, tanned skin pulled taunt over smooth muscle. There is a grace in everything he does, even if it is just laying sprawled on a bed.

Keeping her green eyes on his achingly beautiful form, Eleanor begins to slowly unstrap the web harness around her shoulders, dropping the straps and knife from her with an muffled thunk. Her titanium bracers are next, quick flicks of her fingers and they fall too.

And then her greaves...she props one leg up on his desk chair, her curves and lines standing out even in the bare light. With a pop the first is off, and the second follows.

Now she stands in nothing but her painted-on suit, one hand on her hip, the other trailing over her stomach. She looks defiant, and the smile she gives him is full of promises and lust.

"Are you going to make me do everything myself?"

OOC: Oh hi there kids in TV land. This is the part where we fade to black. Use your imaginations on what card games Cole and Eleanor totally played in the dark.