flee.

It’s so surreal to watch that hole open and stay open, showing pieces of a room that isn’t supposed to be a reach away, but Kilian tries not to look too impressed. It will ruin his cool-ness. “It’s a 24 hour mission, probably will take less. Majority of it is us getting there by jet.” Why isn’t Mr, Bookworm familiar with the basic 101′s of agent missions for fuck’s sake. “I’ll hold your hand if you get nervous, don’t worry,” Kilian says with a smirk.

"Well I wasn't expecting them to make us swim," Patrick snorts. He ignores the hand-holding comment; it makes him roll his eyes. For starters, he's always nervous, so unless Kilian fancies holding his clammy palms all day long then that's a stupid offer. There's also the fact that neither of them would be able to do their jobs like that, certainly Pat -- but hey, it was just a passing joke, there's no need to overthink things, dammit.

Patrick does his usual grumbling-under-his-breath thing, forcing himself to stop thinking and focus, before turning to Kilian. He hints towards his portal, steps back into it with one foot. He's so casual about it, as if his left leg hasn't just fucking disappeared, and his body isn't split in between two rooms. "You coming or shall I just meet you there?" he asks. "I only need to pick up a change of clothes, maybe a granola bar. It'll take two seconds." Probably best that Kilian gets used to stepping through his portals too -- it's always disorienting the first few times, and the last thing they need would be dizziness during a mission.

“Kentucky. It will be a blast.” Probably not. “We leave in an hour, so get ready and meet me in the conference room. They’ll give us the run-down and we’ll be off. We need to pick up one thing, so hopefully it doesn’t come to me using my powers.” If it does, Patrick better be quick when he opens his portals and tries to escape. “It will be simple, nothing to worry about. I promise.”

Promises mean nothing to Patrick. He wants to have faith in his fellow agents -- to have faith in Kilian personally -- but he can't trust that a mission will be simple. There is always something to worry about, and the idea of Kilian having to resort to his monster form? That isn't just worrying; it's a frightening possibility. Clearing his throat, Patrick nods. An hour is nothing (he hasn't even eaten yet, for crying out loud) but it is all they have, and standing around pondering over worst-case scenarios are only wasting time. "That soon? Christ, alright. I need to change."

A quick turn of his wrist and he's spun a portal. It's loitering behind him, waiting patiently to take him back to his personal quarters, while the other people in the lounge are eyeing it curiously. "I'll meet you in the conference room as soon as possible. How long are they estimating it'll take? A few hours, days? I don't even know how long it takes to reach Kentucky from here."

Oh, man. That’s too much blood in the head for it to be healthy. “You’re right. We can’t have people thinking in here.”

Being the nice man that he is, Kilian steps back and gives Patrick some room to breathe again, before he faints (and if he does, Kilian is close enough to let him fall). “I’m just messing around, because you’re an easy target. Relax.” Kilian check his watch. “Did they break you on our mission, or not yet?”

"Missouri or Zagreb?" Patrick asks. He's been briefed on both assignments already, though they'd told him that he'd only be called in if their initial extraction hadn't went to plan. Clearly the stakes have been raised since then. And they're calling Kilian in too? Patrick had been under the impression that this was a quick exfil, not a combat mission. His demeanor quickly changes. His embarrassment takes a sideline and makes way for concern. The way he's looking at Kilian has changed too -- he's not seeing a close acquaintence any more, or a potential fling -- he's seeing a colleague: an Agent of Wrath. "They haven't told me shit, not yet. Did they give you a date? How much notice have they given?"

Kilian was trying to be creepily romantic with his silent approach and obviously succeeding.

“Yeah. Building stamina for more nights together.” His voice is purposefully high. Since there’s so many agents around listening in on them, it’s only fair to drop an innuendo or two. “Have you been working out?” he asks, leaning in so his lips can brush against Patrick’s earlobe. “Your ass looks especially cock inviting today.”

Patrick doesn't process the comment at first. He's too distracted by how close the other man is -- has he never heard of personal boundaries, or was Patrick the one to break them first by falling asleep in the guys bed? It isn't until he hears stifled laughter from the other side of the room that he realizes he's missed a joke. In his head, he rewinds, slowly strings together what he thought he heard. Cock-inviting? No, that's wrong, surely Kilian wouldn't say that; but the man is looking at Patrick like he's a goddamn piece of meat. It's unsettling. New, exciting and definitely not all bad, but still unsettling...

"Dude," he laughs. It sounds awkward and uncomfortable. Pat bats playfully at Kilian's shoulder, trying to feel like he's in on the joke rather than being the butt of it, but it's obvious just by looking at him that he wants to disappear. It feels like he's embarrassed himself more in the past thirty seconds than he did throughout the whole of highschool. His cheeks are flushed. "Quit it. Don't be weird, man. There's people. They'll start thinking things."

It’s been a week since Kilian last saw his cuddle buddy and now, watching him carefully peek around the wall to the common chill area, it’s pretty obvious the kid is trying to avoid someone.

“Hey.” He’s right behind Patrick now, one arm leaning against the wall, cutting the guy’s only exit. “What’s up, buddy?” he grins and wonders if Patrick will shit his pants, or just looks like he might.

Patrick does not shit his pants, thank you very much. He does, however, jump out of his fucking skin and bang his head against the wall like the idiot that he is. Scratch that, he's not the idiot, Kilian is. Who decides that sneaking up on people, especially those with a very apparent nervous disposition, is a good idea? Jerks and idiots, that's who. Kilian is both of them, Patrick quickly decides. He curses under his breath and rubs at his hairline. There's bound to be a bruise come tomorrow -- it's a wonder there isn't a dent in the wall.

"HEY!" Patrick blurts. The sound of his own voice makes him cringe. It comes out more of a squawk than a casual greeting. The few Agents in the lounge area raise an eyebrow in his direction, some in amusement and some in annoyance. Patrick shrugs it off (not very casually) and leans (also not very casually) against the wall, mirroring Kilian's pose. He clears his throat, "Nothing much." Just checking whether you were in the room before I entered, because I'm subtly avoiding you, or at least I was until you showed up. "What about you? Haven't seen you around in a while. Been training?"