Snippet #2664336

There were certain features that made for a good Agent— Personality ticks and modes of thought, given away by subtle cues that Colt had grown accustomed to reading in new trainees. Even the most stable young person gave off certain, obvious tells with their physicality.

Colte saw the way Samon’s breath moved, and despite the lack of focus in the young man’s eyes, there was an obvious intensity in trainee’s features as he listened. Samon was feeling, hearing, and informing himself to the movements of a world he couldn’t quite see but was no less aware of.

Colt watched the subtle flickering of muscles in his trainee’s face as each component of the weapon fell to the ground. 

When Samon closed his eyes, Colt found himself nodding. 



Good.

“Trainee Cauldier, there are things on floor,” he stated, though he knew that Samon was aware, “And you will inform me about them.”

“Telling me, where.” He took several steps back, resuming his circling from a better distance so that he could move without interfering with Samon’s sense of the mat.

“Telling me, how many.” His eyes broke away for a moment to look at the scattered components, checking their location in reference to the Trainee’s leanings.



“And telling me, what they are?”



The specifics as to how Samon had to go about this were purposefully left out— The boy could take the bullets from the chamber and lick them, and Colt would not stop him.



But the gun had not been disassembled quietly, and the components had not fallen in silence.



“If you are right, we are moving on. If you are wrong, doing four laps.”