The life of a double agent isn't for the faint of heart. You have to both keep people at arms length, not allow yourself to get attached, all while making it seem you're not. The odd man out is always the first to be looked at if it's learned there's a spy. So you have to make friends. After all, who would accuse their best friend of treason? But then, unless you're a complete, and utter sociopath, you'd find yourself getting attached to certain people. That's the real trick. Having to betray your friends. People who've place their lives, and trust in your hands, and people you've done the same for. That's when you hav to remember what you fight for. For Alastor, it's his family, his freedom, and his country.
The hustle, and bustle of the station was rather unnerving for Alastor as he walked through the crowd a little ahead of his mistress. He's already nervous as it is with being soon forced on the frontlines, but he also has to figure out a way to safely relay messages to the rebels, and worry about protecting his mistress Sylvia, whose combat experience is little more than a fluffy white bunny. He didn't understand why these young lords and ladies were being drafted. They were born with silver spoons in their mouths, they aren't warriors. Just glorified rich kids that know nothing of true struggle.
The smell of the station was rather strong, but Alastor didn't mind it, and barely noticed it. He was after all raised on farm, this is rather tamed compared to home. In fact he rather enjoyed the smell of sweat like this. As it smells like honest hard work, it's something he's missed. It may seem a tad strange, but he rather dislikes the smell of the castles. Always smelling so good, and so fake. But this was real. He wondered how Sylvia was handing all this. If anyone knows what it's like be uprooted from your home, and forced to do something you don't want to do, it's Alastor.
He stopped in his tracks, and turned to his mistress. "Are you ok Mistress?" Al asked with genuine concern, as his eyes darting around the station, as if expecting trouble, which he always does. He hated having to address someone so properly, though he supposes that he could do worse than having to serve Sylvia. He could have been assigned to one of her bastard of a brother. Al clinched his scarf, and began lightly rubbing it.
When Al heard the announcement for the WCU6 from the burly man he instantly turned towards the direction of the man. His eyes narrowed on the man. "This way, apparently, Mistress." He stated as he lead the way towards the car. Al cleared the path through the crowd for Sylvia by pushing people, rather rudely, out of the way. Once they reached the car Al helped Sylvia in before he got in. Inside two were already waiting. From their looks they were Bellamy, and his slave Lucretia. Al's eyes narrowed at Bellamy, with a look of equal disgust, and contempt. He quickly stopped as soon as he realized it. He turned his attention towards his slave, and looked her up and down.