When it was over, neither said a word. This was, on Spy's part, partly due to exhaustion, and partly due to pensiveness.

Scout, however, just lay there, hair mussed, arms spayed, face blank and completely devoid of emotion.

Spy turned his head, carefully watching the boy's reactions, but became slightly alarmed as the only movements of the younger class were the steady rise and fall of chest, the occasional twitch of his fingers, the slow blink of his eyelids, and the tiny gasps that hitched his breath every so often, like minute hiccups.

Spy watched his younger co-worker with growing unease. his lack of expression, his blank stare, his silence... each took part in the mathematical equation of human sensitivity in Spy's mind that equaled trouble.

Suddenly, Scout jumped up, retrieving his class uniform from the floor. He pulled each garment on, his face now reflecting a combination of all the guilt of a child caught stealing sweets, a boy caught wearing a dress, and a man caught cheating on his wife all at once. Respectively, he looked shocked, embarassed, sullen and alarmed, which, Spy thought, seemed, at least, to be a healthy reaction for a boy like Scout.

Scout pulled his shirt over his head and pulled his rattling dogtags out from under it, tugged his cap onto his head despite the state of his hair, hung his headset on his neck, and, without so much as a backward glance or pause in stride, shouldered his bag and left the room, pulling his shoes on over his heels as he went.

Spy watched him go, then fell back when he had gone with a sigh. He knew, from the look on Scout's face, that he wouldn't tell anyone what had happened, though he knew, too, that nothing could possibly be the same between them ever again.