Anton's got a spark but (cantstartafire) wrote in doorslogs, @ 2012-05-06 15:24:00 |
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Entry tags: | eliot spencer, hulk |
Who: Anton Sparke and Scott Cunningham.
What: Meeting a new coworker, especially one that is spying on you is all sorts of fun.
Where: That’s top secret. But Nevada if you must know.
When: The other day
Warnings/Rating: None.
If there was one thing Scott never minded most of the time, it was being undercover in the field. Their team was very professional and top notch, he had confidence in them having his back so even though he seemed to be alone out there, he never actually was. Of course, it was a give and take. Sometimes he’d be in an expensive suit flirting with high clientele in the penthouse suite, other times he was trapped in a cave eating goat for weeks. He wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.
Well, maybe almost anything.
This new assignment was somewhere in the middle between glamorous and downright hell. He was pretending to be a governmental employee (not too far from the truth) in a secret laboratory buried deep underground in Nevada, all so his team could spy on one playboy millionaire Anton Sparke. They had every reason to be suspicious; he was working on secretive projects they knew nothing about what they were or who they were for. Sure, he’d probably claim innocence, but the word of secretive man with a lot of money wasn’t exactly something the CIA was known to take a face value.
Wearing a lab coat, dressed to appear every bit as someone else (even his tag stated his name was Scott Westen), he pretended to be checking inventory while in actuality he was mapping out the room. Just as a good CIA agent would do.
If there was one thing Anton was used to it was CIA agents following him everywhere, being issued formal letters to find out what he’s been up to, on occasion even giving the government a heads up if a foreign power approached him for something. It was a lot easier working for yourself in the field Anton specialized in. It was more fun, more interesting, more dangerous!
He wasn’t aware - yet - that the person skulking around the lab he was working was his newest CIA friend. But he did notice him and never one to allow silence to prevail he spoke up, “Did you join the army and assume you’d be counting petri dishes for eight to ten hours a day?”
Scott was NOT skulking, thank you very much. He was just writing down things on his clipboard that was code for the space of the room and the security involved when he heard the voice calling out to him. Given that security was outside (for now), Scott presumed it was to him.
Straightening his shoulders so he was in a more militaristic position of attention, he nodded at Anton. Keeping his face impassive and pretending to not recognize the target, he inwardly rolled his eyes and calmly replied. “I assumed I would be serving my duty to my country in any way they deemed necessary. Today it’s counting laboratory equipment.” It wasn’t difficult to sound like a soldier instead of an agent. “May I ask who you are? I’d like to know if you’re allowed in here or not.”
Anton turned to face where the other man was standing his hip resting the table he’d been working on. “I have a pass,” he said unclipping the several levels of clearance cards that were on his jacket lapel. “Several of them,” he said rolling his eyes a bit. “Anton Sparke, not in the army. But I’m allowed to be here,” he said holding out the five cards that he was forced to wear everywhere.
Scott took the cards from Anton and scrutinized them while simultaneously memorizing them. He knew he wouldn’t retain the information long after he left the building so his only choices were to hope Anton left him to his devices, or he was going to have to go back to work and code them into his copy of the inventory list he had in front of him. In front of his target. Great. Bad enough he was taking sensitive information out of a government facility with risk of being strung up by his toes, but now he had floppy haired blue eyed boy trying to distract him. Faking satisfaction, he handed the passes back and took his chances by pretending to count the goggles that were on the lab area across from Anton. “Apologies, you can never be too careful,” he replied, quickly scribbling. When he was done with the first card, he turned around and held out his hand in a friendly gesture. “Scott Westen, I just started here.”
Anton watched the other man with interest, these gung ho soldier types always amused him, and in Anton’s very long and torrid experience with the military he’d seen all kinds of soldiers. Good ones, bad ones, eager ones, scared ones, career ones, he’d seen them all. This one seemed to run the line between eager and slightly annoyed that he was counting goggles. “It’s nice to meet you, Scott Westen. Where were you assigned before you got stationed out in the middle of the desert?”
After initial pleasantries were exchanged, Scott pretended to get back to work. Hurriedly scribbling base information on cards two and three, he responded, recalling what his profile said for himself. “I was at Fort Bragg in North Carolina before getting transferred here. I guess they thought I hadn’t enjoyed enough sand yet. Suppose I can’t complain though.” He looked over at Anton. “What about you? You don’t look like you’re military or you know how to hide it really well.”
Anton smiled a bit and shook his head, “Definitely not military, I’m a civilian contractor. Just helping out with a project. Every now and again they call people who actually know what they’re talking about,” he said with a bright grin and a bit of a wink. Anton enjoyed being the person people called when things went wrong. It kept him relevant, made him a bit of a commodity and made him better than the scientists they chose to go to in the first place. He didn’t ever want to make it to the top of the phone tree, if he did that he was certain it was only a matter of time before there was some other up and comer at the bottom of the phone tree who wanted to come in behind Anton and make sure he made mistakes too. He wouldn’t have that.
“It shows,” he responded though he was referring to the fact he didn’t look like military at all. Maybe it was the extremely expensive suit and loafers that gave away the gentle hint that he wasn’t getting by on a military salary. Scott was more dressed for the part with boots and fatigues underneath the lab coat. More cards in codes were written down before he looked over at Anton. “A contractor? Are they consulting you on something?” he started lightly. Scott knew there was only so much Anton could tell him since it was a ‘project,’ but anything he could find out would be beneficial for him to take back to headquarters.
Anton wasn’t sure if the man in front of him was paying him a compliment or judging him...He didn’t care, he was just very curious. Anton watched as he scribbled but he didn’t quite care enough yet about what he was writing you down. Anton chuckled and nodded once, “I could tell you but you haven’t shown me your clearance badge yet,” he said with a smirk. He was, as of yet, undecided whether or not “clearance badge” was a euphemism.
Scott was momentarily surprised at Anton’s spark of shrewdness, then smirked. It seemed like there was more to his target than he initially thought. That he liked, as it meant he wasn’t going to be rolling his eyes at Senor Playboy daily. That might happen anyways, but at least he knew there might be something underneath the floppy brown hair. “Fair enough,” he responded, pulling out his badge for Anton to look at. “I trust everything is in order?” He may have to pretend to be a glorified beaker cleaner, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have to assert himself. Especially if he was going to have to try to see a lot more of this guy.
Anton closely examined the security badge and scrutinized Scott’s face, though it was mostly for show because he shook his head, “Sorry can’t tell you, you need about four more levels of clearance,” he said with a chuckle. “But I can tell you that it has absolutely nothing to do with the aliens that I am sure are three miles under this base.” Anton didn’t have that level of clearance, and while alien rumors at Area 51 were just rumors...He was so going to find out. Clearance levels were more like guidelines than anything. Right?
Scott’s arms crossed as he waited for Anton to determine he belonged there. He made himself look relaxed and only slightly annoyed, as though he was a regular peon who couldn’t believe he had to explain himself to someone else. Nevermind the fact he asked for Anton’s credentials first. “Shame,” he sighed, “I was hoping you could get me in to see those aliens and all that government conspiracy,” he added with sarcasm. “So I guess I’m going to just see you around then?” Scott asked.
Anton shrugged his shoulders, “Maybe another day, champ.” At the next comment Anton looked around. “Well I imagine you’ll be seeing me around. Do you count things in this room every day around this time, or was this just happenstance?”
Scott laughed freely and without a hint of sarcasm. "I'm not that low on the totem pole. I just agreed to help one of the other men out. But I do come in here a lot so yes, you'll be seeing me around." There was a large smirk on his face. "But next time I might not be so nice."
“Sounds promising!” Anton said with a chuckle and picked up what he was looking for, “Write down that you have one less of these,” he said shaking the box a bit and turned and left the lab with something he probably wasn’t supposed to have.