Routines were good.
Kheshig had a few, and he stuck to them whenever he could, even when he could have disregarded them without anyone else thinking lesser of him. Most people would simply see it as Kheshig being either overly rigid, or very discipline-conscious, but he saw it as a form of meditation. It kept him sane in the midst of an ever-changing life; Cornwall was simply the latest of his stops and there was no telling how long he would stay, or where he would find himself next. It could be in the heart of Africa, the jungles or South America or even the frozen Tundra of Greenland for all he knew. Anyone could easily lose themselves with such a life, and so Kheshig developed his routines. Wherever he went, he would always have one thing that reminded him of who he was.
The rest of the ride back had been made in an awkward silence. Kheshig had not felt the need, and neither had he have the inclination to continue speaking after Birdseed's response. She sounded apologetic enough and was willing to learn from her mistake, so he left it at that. Whether or not she would actually do so remained to be seen, but Kheshig was more than willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. He felt slightly guilty about lumping in Condor with Birdseed, but held off apologizing until they got back to the safehouse. He had nothing to apologize to Birdseed for, except for perhaps his tone and choice of words, but to Condor he intended to apologize for even implicating her in the first place.
Once he had parked and exited the car, Kheshig went straight for his own quarters. There was no need to check up on Archangel, as Condor had asked him to do. Chances were that he would either be bored out of his mind or the same since they left him, and if he were even a decent handler, he would have known that they were back long before the car's engine stopped. Kheshig entered his room, shut the door behind him and locked it. He did not want to be disturbed. He placed the duffel bag on the ground and unzipped it.
Time for the post-operation routine.
He had not fired his rifle, and so he took out the briefcase that contained it and set it aside - he would clean it in another day or two, but no more. After that came all of his individual gadgets. They had not been properly secured within the bag, and so he took his time to check each one individually for any signs of damage. It was a slow process, involving him taking a magnifying glass to each side of the devices, but it was a process he enjoyed. It gave him time to think.
His post-mission thoughts were usually all the same. How long could he keep this up, how much longer would he have to remain on the move and when would he finally be able to find a place he could definitively call home. The answers were always the same; he would keep this up for as long as he had to, and he would settle down when the militants and terrorists who have him in their sights either gave up the chase or were wiped out. It was not the answer he was looking for, but at least it closed off the questions, at least until the next operation.
He let out a long, resigned sigh and placed the last of the charges on the floor. Only then did he take out the remote that Birdseed had slipped into his bag. He held it in his hand and looked it over. It was undamaged, as far as he could see, and he had only used it once, so it should not be too worn. With that done, he removed his electrician's jumpsuit - the material was beginning to chafe - and changed into more comfortable clothes. The boots stayed, but he now wore a pair of loose-fitting cargo pants, neatly bloused as if he were going on parade, a long-sleeved shirt and a button down over it.
Birdseed's remote still sat on the floor, and Kheshig did not like having something that did not belong in his room. In this case, simply because he did not have a spot for it. Deciding to just get it done and over with, he picked it up and walked out of his room to return it. He did not find her in her room or anywhere he thought she might have frequented, and that left him with just one last place to check. He walked to the back of the house, where the pool was located. Before he even knocked on the door, he heard two voices inside, one belonging to Birdseed and the other, Condor's.
Convenient. I can say my sorries to the two of them. He thought, then opened the door.
"Hey, Birdseed, I have your-" He began, but then his mind came to a screeching halt when he saw the two of them, naked as the day they were born, seated in a hot tub. Now this was a situation he had never prepared himself for, and his mind scrambled to at the very least get his mouth working again. He swallowed hard, then, while averting his eyes, said, "I have your remote, but I think I will hold on to it. Looks like it could get wet in here."
He paused, and his mind caught up with his mouth. "Because of the pool, I mean." He corrected himself quickly and shook his head. Kheshig was no expert when it came to people, but from the look on Condor's face, he guessed that he should make himself scarce, and he should do it as quickly as possible. "Anyway, thought I should apologize. For what I said. I mean how I said it. You still messed up, Birdseed, but I may have overreacted. Sorry." He said at a rapid fire pace, then turned to leave. He stopped himself at the last minute, as if he had just remembered something. He pointed the remote up at one of the corners of the room and hit the pause button.
He nodded to each of them, not bothering to explain what he just did. They could probably guess. "Well, have fun. Not too much fun, we still want to use this room when you two are done." He said, then walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.
Only once he was out did he stop and take a deep breath. Condor and Birdseed? Could be reading too much into things, but it is an amusing prospect. He thought and chuckled at the thought. He considered remotely reactivating the camera to get some footage he could use as blackmail material later on, should Birdseed or Condor ever consider acting outside of mission parameters ever again, but then decided against it. That would undoubtedly piss them off, and Kheshig preferred to have all his limbs attached to his body.
Well, I have seen weirder pairings, and nearly experienced one myself. With that, he closed off whatever other amusing thoughts he had about what was going on. Let them do what they want, it is none of my concern.
FourtyTwo