"Absolutely. I'll let him know that you called. Buh-bye."

Sands sometimes - often, really - wondered if anyone on the other end of the phone noticed or cared just how fake the pleasantry in his voice was. He'd been unable to find any leads whatsoever with this sham placement in Rhomberg, and frankly, he was growing sick of it. He'd considered choking himself with the phone cord until he reached out and realized that it was cordless. Just his luck. Modern technology was certainly not his friend.

He was in the midst of wallowing in his annoyance again when he heard his phone ringing and immediately greeted the caller - but he nearly choked when he realized that he recognized the voice on the other end.

"Hello," came the familiar tequila-strained, cigar-hardened Spanish accent that immediately had Sands' hackles raising. "Please inform Mister Cabral that the latest cargo installment will arrive two days behind schedule. We've had some… other business to attend to, but we will be back on track soon."

"Will do, sir. Thank you for calling," Sands said, his feigned pleasantness suddenly back in full force. "May I ask who's -"

But the phone gave an audible click as the man on the other line - undoubtedly Herrera - hung up the phone. Sands smirked to himself as he decided to deliver this particular memo to his boss personally.

Walking with a cane was certainly a blunt injury to his pride, but it got him from one place another without the even greater insult of falling on his face - if anyone were to witness that, he would possibly have shot everyone in the building just to be assured that word never got out. He made his way into Mr. Cabral's office, and from the immediate cease of the clicking of his keyboard, Sands' presence was acknowledged.

"I have a message for you about a… cargo installment," Sands said coolly. His hand instinctively moved to his waist, only for him to realize that he was unarmed. He grimaced slightly but otherwise made no indication that he could perhaps be at a disadvantage.

"Si. I was wondering when any of my incoming messages would be of particular concern to you, Agent Sands. Have a seat."

Sands felt a familiar feeling of oh shit upon being addressed as an agent, when he'd explicitly made sure to be completely incognito - he'd even stooped so low as to have Scout tie his ties for him. Proper, straight ties. Not bolos or bowties or gag ties. Still, there was no way out now, so he used his cane to make his way to the seat in front of Cabral's desk.

"You needn't worry. I've known who you were since you started here," Cabral explained. "But only Hamatsuki and I - your cover is otherwise still intact -"

"Hamatsuki?" Sands interrupted, his brow furrowing deeply as he recognized that name he'd heard Scout mention, the one who'd spoken at her school. "The - the scientist, you mean. Sure."

"Yes - I believe he's become good friends with your… partner?" Cabral pointed out. "The youngest Barillo? She's been very interested in our work as well. but I'm sure you were already aware, si?"

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, sure," Sands said dismissively, waving his hand and piecing together in his head how all of these new pieces of information fit. "Is there anyway we could have Mr. Hamatsuki join us?"

There was a brief hesitation, and Mr. Cabral cleared his throat gently. "Would you like me to have him bring Miss Barillo along? He requested a long lunch today to pay her a visit at home. I… assumed you were aware."

"No," he said with a lopsided smirk that looked anything but mirthful. "No, I was not."

Agent Sands was unsure what exactly bothered him so much about the fact that Torao Hamatsuki, lead research scientist at Rhomberg, was paying Scout a visit. Surely, the guy had valuable information, and if she was able to get her hands on it, it was just as well. But knowing that he was doing who-the-fuck-knows-what in the pad that also belong to Sands was reason enough for him to leave the building and catch a cab home.

Sands was skillful at opening doors in practically no time at all without making a sound - it was a vital skill. The apartment seemed quiet enough that he initially felt as though perhaps had either been mistaken, or had intentionally thrown him a false lead, However, Sands then heard a voice coming from the bedroom that inexplicably made his blood boil for a flicker of a second.

"T, that's amazing…"

Amazing. Sands was admittedly pissed at the idea of Scout in the bedroom using the adjective amazing for… for anyone other than him. It was a matter of pride. Sands liked to think that after having a fair number of trysts with him, no one else would measure up quite as well. Yet here they were. Sands immediately acted on his impulses and strode over to the door, casting his cane aside now that he was in more familiar surroundings and throwing the door open with such force that it threatened to leap off of its hinges.

"Get the fuck out," he said in a low growl, directing his words to the general direction of where the pair had to be situated. He immediately heard stumbling and scrambling - he smirked a little upon imagining that Torao Hamatsuki was terrified and shitting himself.

"Mister Sands," he said in a fearful, constrained voice. "I - I can explain. I just -"

"Out."

Sands heard him scamper away and shut the door behind him, waiting until he was completely alone until he took a few steps forward, knowing Scout was waiting inside.

"You," he began, feeling strangely enraged. "Are supposed to be playing studious college girl right now and all this time, while I'm playing someone's fucking secretary, you're getting off on -"

"I'm not getting off on anyone!" Scout retorted, and from the source of her voice, she had risen to her feet and unlike Hamatsuki, was more than willing to match Sands in his anger. "If you'd just -"

"T, that's amazing!" Sands imitated in a shrill, mocking tone. "Are you naked right now? Did the kid run out of here naked too?" he laughed coldly. "Because if he did, then I would have fucking paid to see the look on his face, and the fucking neighbors' faces! At least tell me you guys have been keeping it down in here, because if the neighbors have been hearing all sorts of zoo animal noises from you two while I'm at work, I don't know how we're gonna -"

"Sands, just sit the hell down for a second!"

The order was accompanied by a sudden, admittedly unforeseen smack across the face that left Sands a little bit speechless - she'd never been able to get one up on him that way before. He hadn't even heard it, the way he always did every other time she had tried to slap him - and there had been many times. He felt her grab him by his wrist and pull him towards the bed; he allowed himself to sit when the backs of his knees hit the edge of the mattress.

"You had better have a damn good explanation for why you're bringing outsiders in here when you there are God-knows-how-many people out there hunting you down -"

"But T isn't just an outsider -"

"Cute, Scout. I'm glad you've found fucking true love in the midst of all this, but if we're being honest, I don't give a rat's -"

But his tirade was again cut off when he felt her remove his shades, and judging by the slight sinking of the mattress, had now taken a seat in front of him.

"I told you before I met him," she said matter-of-factly. "Torao Hamatsuki works-"

"For Rhomberg, I know," Sands interrupted shortly. "Cabral told me that you two have been getting extremely cozy without my -"

"On the sensory bionics project," Scout finished. "He brought me the initial prototype because the project moved on to the next phase and they were just going to destroy it. They know about you, about us - they're on our side. He says the prototype works. The technology is fine, it's just the design that needs work now - so sit still. He said to expect a little bit of a poke -"

Sands froze and almost swatted Scout away when he felt her slipping another pair of shades onto his face - but they weren't his. He could tell because these came with a faint sensation, almost like needlepricks over his browline. It wasn't painful, not like it really pierced the skin at all, but more like the feeling of sitting on sand when the tiny granules embedded themselves onto you.

"I got nothin'," he said dismissively. "This is bull -"

"He said you need to give it a second."

But Scout needn't have said anything. In moments, it was like someone had turned on a television set. It was not a fluid moving picture, but an almost flipbook-like series of snapshots. He could only see what was in front of him - and the only thing in front of him of importance was Scout.

"The - the shades are like the viewfinder, and they transmit the electrical impulses directly to -"

"Shut up…"

He didn't want her to talk as he reached out and touched her face, and for the first time, he actually saw her expression change. He saw the way her forehead wrinkled, and the way she pursed her lips. He always imagined she would do that - but he had never been able to imagine how expressive her eyes were, how they wrinkled at the corners when he told her to shut up.

"Sands, I swear, I wasn't trying to -"

"Just… shut up."

The fact that Sands was seeing Scout in what felt like a series of snapshots made his pulse quicken, anticipating what the next snapshot would look like - whether it would be surprise, or anger, or something else, if it would reveal a new crinkle in her face, a new movement in her expression. He saw for the first time that she stared piercingly at him with concern. Concern. The realization, paired with the overwhelming ability to see again, even in choppy snapshots, rendered him speechless.

"I'm trying to apologize," she said, her face souring slightly in frustration. "I know I should have told you about Hamatsuki, but I wanted - I wanted to do something useful on my own and you never would have let me. I wanted to prove that I could do something other than -"

But before she could finish, his fingertips that were still resting on her face gently dug into the soft skin around her cheekbones, drawing her nearer to him and kissing her full on the mouth.

Their mouths, quite frankly, had traveled to far less innocent places on one another's bodies in their past trysts. Though Sands had never actually seen his own handiwork, he was well aware of the fact that he had gone to town fervently on her neck many times. Even if he didn't remember all of them, he knew there were times she wore scarves for days just to hide the evidence he left on the soft, supple skin which he finally now saw was a delicate ivory color. It was very Pretty Woman, the idea they'd harbored that sex was one thing, but kisses were another. Lips were uncharted territory, and even now, he wasn't entirely sure why he was there. He just wanted to be, and based on her ardent response, she wanted him there too. He relished the fact that when he moved to graze his teeth over the soft skin just under her ear, over the the curve of her neck, he was able to pull back just in time to watch her let out a small gasp. He could see her throat hitch, her eyes flutter shut.

If it was possible to get off on just the look on a woman's face, Sands surmised, this would be one of those moments.

"You said this couldn't happen anymore -"

"Shut up," he repeated. "This is different."

Whatever this was, the fact remained that she had done a very good thing for Sands, and right now, all he had on his mind was making sure that she was repaid quite handsomely. He roved his hands over her body and rested them on the curves of her waist, pulling her towards him. She obligingly shifted so that her legs were on either side of him and her hands braced on his shoulders before moving down his chest and starting to unbutton his shirt. Sands smirked and hooked his fingers through the belt loops of her jeans, tugging them down slightly and running his fingertips first across her hipbones, then up the sides of her stomach. Her fingers stumbled, and she tensed visibly as she let out a hiss - and like hell, did Sands appreciate the fact that he could see every little movement.

It was decided - tonight, he was set on driving Scout completely crazy, and this time, he was going to enjoy every sigh, every arch of her back, every angle as she writhed against him.

Hours later when Sands stirred, he noticed that for the first time after one of their little incidents, she had nestled into his side and fallen asleep with her arm draped over his abdomen. Sands chuckled a little at the fact that the glasses hadn't fallen off of him. Since he was sleeping propped up against the headboard of the bed, he adjusted slightly and noticed that at some point she had pulled on the dark blue oxford shirt she'd taken off of him - he fell silent at the realization that the sensation of her petite form pressed against his was pleasantly warm. The warmth wasn't a surprise - but the fact that his initial assessment of it was pleasant was.

Then came the realization that he was holding her too - one arm keeping her pressed to him, curled around her and gently entwined in her long dark hair. He'd fallen asleep like this. It was two in the morning, and he was snuggling with the girl who was supposed to be his assignment.

"Scout."

He briefly entertained the possibility of pushing her off of him and pretending they had never been in this position - but the favor she had done him warranted better, he admitted, than the booty-call brushoff. She deserved better than the old tuck and roll. As much as he wanted to dismiss everything she had done as gratitude for his doing a good job of keeping her not dead, he couldn't shake the thought that maybe Scout was in this deeper than she should have been.

Fine, he decided. She could stay like this for tonight, but this was the last time.

The next few days, however, seemed to spiral a bit out of his control without him even noticing. It started with one more time because she was sexy as all hell when she got out of the shower. Then, it was the way she licked her lips when she drank her coffee. It was a thousand sexy little things she had been doing in front of him all along without him having the slightest idea. Every sight was new, and for a few days, it seemed almost that their roles were reversed, that Sands had caught a bad case of Stockholm Syndrome from being held hostage by her.

She eventually brought Torao Hamatsuki back to the apartment to see how well his prototype worked, and Sands was in a good enough mood not to completely terrify him - he looked like a total Peabody, and there was hardly any pride in that. But he noticed something else now - Peabody and Scout were close. Very close. Of course there was no reason for them not to be. They were the same age, they were smart, they had the entire Herrera debacle to bond over.

"We're working on - on actual ocular prostheses that can go directly into the socket," he explained, squatting awkwardly in front of where Sands was seated on the couch to examine the shades. Scout was leaning on the back of the couch, sipping on the Starbucks coffee that the kid had brought for her - Sands took pride in the fact that she was wearing a scarf very snug around her neck.

"They're close to being done," Hamatsuki said, getting back to his feet and crossing his arms. "When - when everything with Herrera is over with, maybe -"

Sands was thankful that his phone decided to ring at this moment - Sorenson. He didn't want to hear the end of Peabody's statement anyway, because what the hell was someone like him supposed to do with hope? His forehead wrinkled slightly and he looked up at the pair. "Phone call, sensitive information. I need you two to scram -"

"Why do I need to?" Scout asked.

"Because if you knew, I'd need to shoot you," he smirked. Scout rolled her eyes in annoyance but obliged, leaving the apartment with Hamatsuki. Content that they were out of earshot, Sands hit redial on his phone. "Took you a while to miss me, Fiona."

"If I never had to hear from you again, it'd be only too soon," she said in a constrained voice. "But we've had reports of a vehicle registered to one of Herrera's men as close as San Luis Obispo. That's only a few hours until they're in your vicinity, and we can't promise that much time until they track you down."

"So, we're on the move again?" Sands asked. "Now?"

"A new safe house still needs to be procured," Sorenson replied stiffly - but there was something in her voice that Sands found unusual. He knew that tone of voice in a woman - it meant she was hiding something. It was a tone that would have saved him a great deal of pain, had he just recognized it before. But he'd see Agent Sorenson soon enough, and he'd be able to get the information he needed about what the woman was hiding. "You'll receive another call for me when it's time to go. Get the girl ready, Sands. No hang-ups."