[indent][b]Boston & Jane Dyer
1036R 12 March 14
Shattered Steel Headquarters
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“Goddamn, who sets briefings before lunch.”

[i]Click-click, click-click, click-click[/i]. Flight boots against the linoleum tile, the wisp patter of loose shirts in the wind, echoed down the hallway. Yeah, he had a point. Who [i]did[/i] set briefings right before lunch instead of most any other time. He’d have preferred it early in the morning, further into the night, but the middle of the day was always a bit odd. On the plus side, though, Boston had come to appreciate the laxity of it all, though, even if he compared it to the lessening standards with the Air Force. He’d never have been able to get away with aloha shirts, DBDU pants, and his boots.

[i]Whap whap-whap, whap whap-whap[/i].The heavy-built metal thermos hung at his belt, dancing against his leg with every step, and his hands were shoved deep into the hip pockets. Jane held her thermos, taking a long sip as they strode down the way.

“Busy beforehand, maybe?”

“Maybe.”

“Where the heck…oh, [i]there[/i] it is.”

Open door, stride on in, and see everyone else right there. It’d have been easy enough to pause, look around, what have you with the feeling like they’d missed something, but clearly that wasn’t the case. After all, Valentine didn’t have any bits or pieces of information on the board. Boston smiled a little at it, a shadow of a smirk, turning to one of the back tables to draw out one chair before sitting in another. Jane sat in the proffered seat, briefly pausing to deliver a light shove against his arm, before setting her thermos against the leg of the table with a metallic [i]clang[/i] - magnets were useful, all told, for putting mugs wherever you wanted them.

A sweep of the eyes, Boston taking it all in. [i]Who the fuck brought in donuts at this hour[/i]. It was almost like they were [i]trying[/i] to make him fat and happy, rat bastards. He didn’t recognize the brand, though, so at least that was a plus. All the brands he’d tried on-island were universally shit. One guy was practically stuffing his face with them, though, which was…yeah, a time.

For his part, Boston leaned back in his chair, folding his arms in front of him. Jane just templed her hands in a triangle, leaning forward with her chin on the knuckles.