Milo left the dirty cell that Grey was held in and walked into the overly bright and very sterile room where his team sat. As he closed the door, they all looked up from their random tasks to see what he was doing.

“That took a while,” said one if his associates, “What were you two love birds talking about...?”

Milo knew all too well that they all had been listening, or at least attempting to listen. “Just stuff about the business. You know. This for me...?” he said pointing to the Chinese on the table. His teammates nodded.

He had a lot to think about. Grabbing the box and pulling up a chair, he sat down and blankly stared into the abyss. For thirty minutes it was like he was in a trance. When time was up, it was like he woke up, and snapped back to life.

He grabbed another box of Chinese and walked into Grey’s cell. His face was stern. Decisive. She couldn’t tell which way he’d go, and that scared her. Milo gently un-cuffed Grey from the overly tight strains around her wrists. He handed her the box of Chinese and her beloved butterfly knife.

“Eat, we need to get back ASAP,” he said and smiled that uncanny and quirky smile of his. This was the start of their relationship, of their partnership. The thing was, they never agreed, not in words so much. In the actions between the pair of them, they silently agreed in their partnership.