It always came to a surprise every time she thought about it. With him, she'd had some wonderfully stable times. These experiences gave her a different perspective on both him and the rest of the clinically insane mercenaries.

Miss Pauling, somehow both a timid and tough 'contractor', wasn't allowed to spend any personal time with the mercs she had under her belt- well, she could spend time with them, but that didn't mean she should. Her boss, only known as The Administrator, wasn't pleased with the idea of her little assistant hanging around the team of men. There was only one reason the old, harsh woman let these interactions occur, to listen for gossip. She didn't want anyone talking about herself. If any rumours had come into fruition, the gossipers would be dealt with appropriately. There was no need for hearsay about things they couldn't even begin to fathom.

Although there was a darkness, Miss Pauling continued to pretend that things were fine. The act was especially present when she talked to him- Scout. She didn't like using official names; making sure the mercs called her 'Miss Pauling' and her calling them by their class.

Scout was probably the closest to this 'contractor' relationship-wise. Although he could be a bit much at times, she enjoyed his company. He could ramble on about anything for hours, and she'd soak it all in. Sometimes, if he was able to, he'd tag alongside her and help with the dirty work she'd been tasked with.

"Y'know, Miss Paulin'," the Boston boy leant up against the green, dusty pick-up truck, watching as the short assistant inspected a very tall and cartoony-looking cactus, "I don't understand why you gotta do all this. I mean, it's kinda pointless once ya' think about it."

Miss Pauling frowned as she estimated the length of each cactus arm, "No, not pointless… Everything she tells me to do is for a reason, even if you don't exactly see it at first."

"Well, do you see the reason we gotta be in the desert, in the middle of the day, lookin' for a 'tall cactus'?" he air quoted, rolling his eyes at the ridiculousness of her task.

In reply, he was shot a disapproving glare.

The mercenary shrugged, adjusting his cap as he walked up next to her, "whatever you think's right, Paulin'."

The two stood facing the cactus as hot, dry gusts of wind blew against their backs. Miss Pauling took a step forward and continued to stare blankly at the plant, her mind beginning to wander. Scout, on the other hand, drifted his gaze to the woman next to him. She made him feel good about himself, and that's what he liked about her. It was a selfish thing to think, but he believed the delusion to be true.

Although she was pretty, talented and so much smarter than him, he couldn't help but think she was being manipulated. The stories she'd told and the tasks he'd witnessed seemed more than a bit strange for an assistant to do. It pained him to see her spend every day preforming meaningless task after meaningless task, but he knew he couldn't stop her. It wasn't his place.

Maybe it was for a reason-

"Scout?"

He snapped back to attention, "Uh, yeah?"

"Let's just take this one," she huffed, turning to the truck and taking out a Fire Axe.

"You sure?"

Miss Pauling snapped back, becoming increasingly irritated by the second, "Yes! we've been out here for ages and I'm getting heat exhaustion. Can you just chop and tie it down to the truck? I'm way too tired to do any physical labour right now."

She carelessly handed him the axe and a pair of oversized rubber gloves, to which he questioned, "are these Pyro's?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever. Just cut down the cactus, Scout."

He slid on the gloves and took the axe before continuing to swing at the base of the large plant. Miss Pauling climbed into the passenger seat of the pick-up truck, letting out a sigh. She was never good with hot weather.

Soon enough, Scout had completed his task, jumping through the open window of the vehicle to accompany the tired woman. He sat in the driver's seat and gave a warm smile to the already overheating Miss Pauling.

"Just drive us back to the storage unit."

"I wouldn't call it a storage unit," he started the engine, the air conditioner suddenly expelling an invisible cloud of heat, "cause that's offensive. To me, and the other guys, it's home."

"It's still a huge storage unit, Scout. You're lucky there's a ventilation system throughout it."

He sneered, driving the truck towards their destination, "Nah, man, it's home. We all got our rooms'n'stuff, and another, bigger room for meetin's, or partyin'- mostly partyin'. It's pretty much our home… What 'bout you, Paulin'? What's your home like?"

"Good question," she turned up the cool air, her body temperature slowly returning to normal, "Uhh, I guess it's just somewhere, well… yeah it's just somewhere."

Scout turned his head to her, "Are you sayin' you don't have a home?!

The secretary became very defensive, "I have a place to live, I'm just not there, ever."

"Aw, well, Miss," he tried to lighten the mood, returning his eyes to the road, "You're always welcome to come see me and the team, y'know, when you can."

"I know," She stared out the window, head resting on her hand, "I know…"