On the quality improvement of Omega agents

The air conditioner in the room was not turned on, it was a bit cold, and the wooden floor made a slight "creak" sound under the leather shoes.Bruce took off his windbreaker and put it on the back of the sofa in the living room.He turned his head inadvertently, the door was not closed, and through the sand door, he could see the little cat still squatting on the stone steps at the door.

The dark-haired man loosened his tie slowly, and he turned on the light with a snap.The huge living room was silent, only the slight "humming" sound from the old unused incandescent lamps.Bruce narrowed his eyes slightly and exhaled.He hasn't come back for a long time, the room was already deserted, but now that there are more people, it looks even more empty.

Bruce took off his shoes, and some dust accumulated on the carpet, but the senior CIA officer didn't care and just stepped on it.

Bruce went to take a hot shower. Fortunately, the bathroom was clean. The hot water sprayed from the shower, and the black hair stuck to his face. The man slowly raised his hand to wipe his face.The hot water seemed to have magical healing properties, stretching his tired and tense body, and Bruce sighed in comfort.

The gunshot wound in Russia on the shoulder has healed, and after the scab fell off, there was a white mark left. When the bullet was dug out, the flesh was cut open, and the technique was rough.Bruce scratched the raised skin and smiled to himself.That night in the Russian summer, he told Randall, you come back with me, and I will give you what you want.At that time, Bruce thought that he made such a promise just to let his agent go back to the special task force to accept his punishment——God knows Bruce Stewart was forced to have a relationship by his own subordinates. When he woke up, he found that he was far away. What kind of mood is it to go to another country and still be pregnant with his flesh and blood.But after he finished speaking, he found that the sincerity in these words scared him.

Bruce Stewart should be fearless.

The black-haired man supported the bathroom wall with one hand, feeling the coolness passing through his palm bit by bit.The ring on the ring finger was stuck to the tiles, and the light was dim in the room filled with mist.The man's brown eyes couldn't see the emotion clearly for a while.

Bruce walked into the living room wiping his wet hair, the blanket itching under his feet.He sat down on the sofa and slowly relaxed his body. When he was looking for the remote control, he found that there was nothing on the coffee table.Bruce frowned, then fumbled expressionlessly——pulled the missing remote from the gap between the cushion and the backrest of the sofa.The man didn't seem to be surprised by the remote control that went to such a weird place for no reason. He turned on the TV casually, and the noisy sound immediately filled the living room.

It seemed that only such a noisy situation could make him fall into his own thoughts unabashedly.

Bruce's eyes froze at one point.

The camel-colored carpet still looks brand new, but there is a large dark patch at the foot of the sofa, which looks like the wine has dried up.Bruce thought lazily that he should have washed the carpet while he was around. —if Mr. Randall hadn't smothered his superior with a pillow in a panic "after the devotion."

Bruce doesn't know why he's thinking this, and he forces his eyes away from the smudge.It was already late at night, and a love movie from many years ago was playing on the TV. The male protagonist returned to his lover after crossing mountains and mountains, and fell into his lover's arms with the gunpowder smoke and wounds that could not be eliminated on the battlefield.Bruce stared absently at the woman's crying face on the screen. Feeling a little bored, he got up and took a half-bottle of bourbon from the liquor cabinet.His thoughts wandered endlessly, but he didn't seem to be calculating at all.This was a first for Bruce Stewart.

——That person likes to drink vodka, too strong alcohol, not good.

His stomach was empty, and the black-haired man put the liquid in the cup into his mouth self-consciously. He soon felt slightly drunk, whether it was because he was tired or the sound of crying on the TV was too hypnotic.

——That person eats sweets, likes cakes and sugar, childish.

Bruce fell asleep on the couch.

The incandescent lamp has been turned off by the man, and the changing pictures on the TV in the dark cast a flickering light on him.

In the tidbits, the hero is talking.

"It was you who kept me away from the endless abyss."

It was still dark when Bruce woke up the next day on the living room sofa with a sore back.It was raining outside, and the black-haired man sat up slowly while listening to the patter of rain outside.He is not dreaming.

Bruce looked at the watch. It was time for him to leave for the Special Service.

The cat was still outside the door, and Bruce stopped. He looked down at the shrunken feline, and the other looked up at him without fear.The black fur was wet from the rain, but it seemed to be shiny instead. The tips of the ears were trembling uncomfortably, but the teeth were bared, showing a fierce look, and the body was trembling uncontrollably from the cold and pain.

"Where have you gone yet, Mr. Cat?" Bruce's voice was interesting. He knelt down and looked at the cat. The little beast was in a vigilant posture, but couldn't move because of the wound on its hind leg.Bruce thought this little guy was interesting, but he didn't reach out to touch it. The black-haired man thought for a while, turned around and entered the room, and after a while he took out a carton of milk. The man tore open the carton and poured the milk into a pretty inside the plate.

There is no cat food bowl in Bruce Stewart's house. The beautiful porcelain tableware comes from the ancient oriental country, but obviously this feline with a limped hind leg doesn't know how to appreciate it.It tried to lower its head to lick the milk on the plate, and stepped on the plate with its front paws in desperation, leaving dirty marks.Bruce looked at it blankly, and the cat seemed to remember that there was an annoying human next to it. It raised its head and bared its teeth angrily as a threat, and the hair on the back of its neck seemed to stand on end.

Bruce laughed, "Enjoy it, Mr. Cat." The man stood up, the hem of the black windbreaker was stained with rain, and there were traces of wetness.He closed the door, then walked towards Garcia who was already waiting by the opposite car.

Garcia pretended not to hear a senior CIA officer address a stray cat as "Mr. cat" with all seriousness.

Bruce stopped the car on the road, and Garcia finally couldn't help grinning as she watched the store her officer walked into.The brightly colored lights made the window look comical and warm, and the smell of baked goods made Garcia's morning stomach twitch with cold coffee and poor-quality donuts.It's a sweet shop.

When Bruce returned to the car, he closed the black umbrella, feeling a bit chilly from the autumn rain outside, but the paper bag in his hand was warm.Garcia was about to drive when her officer suddenly handed over a paper bag.

"Toast, this shop is doing pretty well."

Garcia was stunned for two seconds before she was flattered to finish the bag. She could hardly control herself not to look at her chief with the eyes of a strange person,——sir, you are not controlled by aliens, are you? !

The black-haired man still looked plain, but there was an imperceptible gentleness in his tone. Garcia thought, maybe it was because of the cat?She glanced at the officer, who was still holding a bulging paper bag in his hand, which should also contain dessert, but he didn't intend to eat it.

The female adjutant looked at the dessert bag that was quietly placed on Bruce Stewart's lap. This scene was eerie and warm. She suddenly remembered a blond agent who loved lollipops in the training camp, and turned her head silently to concentrate on driving.

Bruce smiled softly, but said nothing.

Garcia has been with him for several years, and has never looked at him with such wanton and probing eyes.Bruce knew why.He subconsciously pinched the paper bag on his lap, and the sweet aroma of desserts wafted out, the black-haired man thought, it didn't seem so unbearable.

People will change, for certain things, or people.And Bruce decided to let his change go.