[RL: St. Michael - A talk]

[fang_of_spades]

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[fieldgeneralsir]

Michael sighed, rubbing at his temples in hopes of dispelling the headache before he moved. It wouldn’t do to face Blue when he was already short tempered, but the Hound wasn’t likely to be deterred or stalled. Michael already knew what this was about. He stood, leaving the mounds of paperwork on the kitchen table, and walked to the living room.

“Yes, Kane?” he asked, forcing himself not to sound tired.

[fang_of_spades]

Blue didn’t look away from the fish. “Dude, we need to have a serious, old man talk here, okay?” He squared his shoulders, turning to face Mike. “Reassignment? Tweets, what the hell?”

[fieldgeneralsir]

He’d known it was coming, but his headache gave another sharp jolt of pain regardless. He sighed, “Protocol, Kane. Mated pairs cannot undertake missions with each other, or to guard one another. We’re not discussing this.”

[fang_of_spades]

“Dude, we’re so discussing this! This is my life, Tweety.” Blue ran a hand through his hair, making broad, sweeping gestures as he spoke. This was frustrating, Michael was frustrating. “You can’t just do this shit, man. It’s a life gig, I get it, but I want a life too.”