<span style="color: #BF0000">“Well then,”</span>Aimpoint said, stepping out from behind the small podium.<span style="color: #BF0000">“You’re all set to begin tomorrow morning.” </span>His dark eyes studied Sabina for a moment, a puzzled look briefly playing over his face before it returned to its usual grim and serious expression. He walked past her, motioning for her to follow.<br/><span style="color: #BF0000">“We’re all done, so you can get the gear you left in my office and get outta here,” </span>He told her as they walked back through the building towards his office which was two floors above them.<span style="color: #BF0000">“Of course, you could also stay and help me with some paperwork to get a real taste of our work. After that I’m grabbing some grub. You choose.” </span>He said disinterestedly as they rode an elevator. He absent-minded re-tucked his flannel shirt into his belt, rolled his neck and straightened up as they neared their destination floor. He seemed to carry a constant tension in his body, his back and shoulders were taught and his neck ever so slightly hunched forward. His arms barely swung as he walked, his right hand constantly hovering near the holstered Glock 17 at his waist.