A Walk on the Wild Side

Damiens favourite place to be was in his private lab at headquarters. They had spared no expense on his space. It was Damien who had invented disaster proof cloth for their uniform, among many many other inventions, had designed most of the weapons their team used and he also handled the bills and the taxes keeping what needed to be hidden hidden. He could be up for days in his lab, brain running non stop. He had known since he was very young that he was unlike others. If it hadn't been for Meg, he probably would live at the lab. However, nothing to him beats going home with her. Sure people thought they were nothing alike, but he liked to think that they balanced one another, the ying and the yang. She brought him out a little, it was good for him, Damien liked to think. They had been together for ages and could read one another like they were reading each other's minds. In his eyes she was perfect he loved her spunk, he just didn't like when she would put her life in mortal danger, which was very often. It was the only thing they tended to argue over. He knew her job wasn't easy in general, but there was no need for her to be the one out there every time. She over achieved, but then she was just like him in some senses. Simply put Damien didn't want to imagine a life without her. Tucked away in his lab, near the late afternoon of a Friday night, Damien sifted through the assortment of files and binders payed out over his desk, a cigarette slipped comfortably between his lips to puff on.

In the background classical music played gently, it helped him focus when he was at work. Rarely was he ever interrupted unless it was his girlfriend or the big boss. Many thought Damien to be pretentious and at times snobbish, though he didn't think much of it, wasn't out to impress anyone. From behind the reading glasses that framed his face, Damien certainly fit the part, but he was certainly an attractive man. He tapped the end of his pen against his paper as he thought, when he heard the glass doors slide open. When he heard her voice call out to him, it broke his thought, he blinked and looked back to see her and smiled, but it dwindled when he took in her appearance. "What time is it?" He wondered a faint British accent on his voice.

He blinked, as his brain slowed. He removed his reading glasses, "I lost track of time," he admited to her rising from his chair. Damien turned to face her eyes running across the scar, lips twisting in judgement.

"Not today, just a bit of research that Ana asked me to do," Damien told her with an easy shrug. "What have you been up to?"

"Clearly," Damien answered, "can I have a look?" He asked, wanting to examine her injury himself to make sure their doc stitched her up properly.

He put his reading glasses back on and turned the lamp on his desk to face her to get a good look. With his high intelligence Damien was naturally well rounded and more than qualified enough to grade the docs work. He was very gentle around the wounds, dark eyes doing a thorough job. Once satisfied Damien nodded, "not too bad."

Damien chuckled, "Really? That's what you're thinking about?"