Again, thanks so much for the kind words, I hope you enjoy this update! -- The water in the bathtub was the perfect temperature. Sniper sank down deep into the water, his knees sticking up above the tub. He opened his eyes when he heard a sharp hiss. His clothes, which he’d left piled on the floor, were gone. Before he could even raise his eyebrows, a camera on the wall activated and turned toward him. “Your clothes are being incinerated.†Sniper shot up in the bath, his aviators sliding down his nose. “Oi! Look, lady, I don’t mean to be upset, but you can’t just take a man’s clothes and—†“They were beyond repair. Unless you want to return with… your pants in the state they were in.†Sniper blushed, which was a kick since it wasn’t like he was the only one in the room who had… enjoyed themselves. He lathered up his hands with soap with the Aperture logo on it. “At least you left my hat.†The camera flickered and she let out an annoyed burst of static before deactivating the camera. Sniper smirked and washed himself off quickly, draining the tub and turning on the shower to give himself a final rinse. Another hiss made him look to see new clothes drop from the ceiling. He stepped out of the tub and toweled himself off quickly, his hair still a bit damp and shaggy as he picked up the orange pants and matching shirt. “No. No bloody way.†Sniper might have hated it, but he managed to put together the clothes in a way that wasn’t completely embarrassing. He kept the pants on and wore the white undershirt, but that was it. He wasn’t going to go strolling around looking like an employee of some sort. He walked down the hallway and once he got back to the atrium he saw that Blue and Orange were done testing. They waved at him, and when Sniper waved back he saw the bruises that were already coloring on his wrist. He quickly lowered his hand, feeling his face get a bit warm, which, really, after everything he certainly shouldn’t be embarrassed at a few bruises, of all things. Orange sprang up to him and reached out for his face. Sniper backed up, but not fast enough before it’s metal finger swiped over his lower lip. Sniper blinked and realized that he was bleeding. Nothing serious, but enough to catch Orange’s attention and make the little (maybe not so little, it managed to stand taller than Sniper) bugger chirp and swipe the blood over Blue’s body, making a little “X.†“Stop that!†Blue whirred and grabbed Orange’s body and juggled it before retuning it. “That’s disgusting!†Sniper didn’t disagree and he licked his thumb and cleaned Blue right up. Blue hummed, his blue eye brightening a little before Sniper received a light shock and an electronic cackle. It was weird—nothing close to normal. Sniper leaned his banjo against the Companion Cube and watched the two robots… well, he supposed the proper word for it was “play†but he didn’t dare actually say that aloud. Instead, he just rubbed his sore wrists, the dull ache making him smile. :::: When Sniper returned to base on Sunday he felt fresher and younger, almost. He whistled and found himself smiling for no particular reason at all. It was maddening and more than a little foolish. Not that it stopped him. He was in the kitchen to get a beer when the Medic’s voice made him turn around. “Ach! What happened to your neck?†Sniper automatically slapped his hand to his neck, and he winced a little at the dull throb of pain it sent through him. At first he was confused—and that was when he realized just where that particular ring of bruises around his neck came from. “Uh—†Medic raised his eyebrows. “Tussle with the wildlife?†The Medic’s gloved fingers ran lightly over the skin. “There’s no variation… the bruising is completely constant…†Sniper ducked out of the Medic’s touch. “They don’t hurt, they’re fine.†With an unopened beer in hand, the Sniper moved back outside under the warm sun. He set up a worn old lawn chair and leaned back. When a shadow fell over him he cracked open his eye to see Spy smirking down at him like he was the fat cat that caught the canary. Sniper sat up, taking his hat to dust it off. “Can I help you, spook?†If anything, that just made the Spy’s smirk widen. “You seem, what is the word, chipper this morning.†Sniper scowled and leaned back down his chair, at gingerly at the matching ring of bruises around both of his thighs. “Are you sure those bruises won’t slow you down in the field?†Sniper rolled his eyes. “My wrists will hardly slow me down.†Sniper nudged the outside of Sniper’s right thigh. “I wasn’t talking about those bruises.†Sniper jerked up in his seat, his hand on the hilt of his blade but the Spy merely took a casual step back. “I’m not one to judge. You’re better this way—your mood, I mean. It’s about time you got a lady-friend.†When Sniper didn’t respond the Spy tilted his head to the side. “Man-friend?†Sniper glared and the Spy shrugged. “Lady-friend it is.†When the Spy didn’t leave, Sniper offered him one of his cigarettes. The Spy took it, tipped a hat he didn’t have, and was off. Sniper supposed that was a good thing, but you could never be too sure with spooks. ::::