"Any ideas on how to bring us back after we're done?" Brad asks, stepping into the room, backpack on one shoulder.
"There's a remote," Wright volunteers, handing him the piece in it's leather casing. "We didn't have a chance to test it, but it should work," he says, almost cheerful, and Brad gives him a long look.
"It's the revenge for all the times we fucked with you in Iraq, isn't it?" he asks suspiciously, then nods. "Well done"
*
"It's been an honor, Brad," he says quietly

And in that very moment he's quite certain that he won't see Brad ever again.

"Do we have a problem here, gentlemen?" he asks calmly, allowing his Iceman persona to shine, knowing well that behind him Ray and Poke are doing their best to scare the living shit out of this fucking retard.

*
Poke joins then all fresh and clean with a fucking smile so wide it would probably power up half of the headquaters. "I fucking love this time travel business. Even the soap from the dispenser smells like fucking daisies. We need to stock up on this, Gina will love me forever if I bring it back."
"Jesus, Poke. For a bad ass motherfucker, you're on such a tight leash it's a wonder it extends back in time..."

*
"Angela," Nate says, reaching out to touch her shoulder, getting her attention. "This is important. Can't tell you exactly why, but believe me, I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't. Can you do this for me?" he asks and then smiles wryly. "Wouldn't want to try and break into Jones' office for the passes."
"Jones would go ballistic," she agrees with a small laugh and then nods seriously. "Okay," she says.
And that's what it takes. Brad would be impressed, or maybe surprised, but then again, he's not exactly known for his ability to say no to Nate Fick. In any regard.
"It's like he has superpowers," he hears Ray awed whisper. And maybe Person's right. Maybe it is some sort of superpower, some weird genetic quirk making people trust Nate and Nate's judgement without any question.