I'll see you in the morning, fresh as a daisy, but Sierra narrowed her eyes suspiciously at these words, began to think, and looked from Barney to the twenty-five boys who were beginning to talk to each other. Was it too easy? Maybe, according to Ross, they weren't supposed to see each other as competitors, but in the end, they remained competitors. No one could tell her or make her believe that the guys there didn't see themselves as competitors. The way some of the guys behaved, a competition was created for the most ridiculous, stupid and banal reasons. And then it should not be like that here? Please.

"What's the matter?" one of Barney's people wanted to know, who went to Sierra, stood next to her and followed her gaze while she walked, "They don't bite, at least I don't think they do. None to your liking?"

"This is going too fast," Sierra replied absently, not taking her eyes off her group of candidates, "How can twenty-five guys get along within a few hours without it coming to a dick comparison? Especially when Seals meet Rangers or FBI meets Homeland. When some groups meet, there is bound to be trouble. Not here. Do they all have a rock behind their back or just one or two?"

"So, what do you have behind your back?" the one from Barney's group wanted to know, looking at the brunette tensely, "A rock, I guess less."

"Nothing," Sierra said in a monotone voice that surprised the man, "The knife is in the boots. I don't have anything behind my back. Hands should be free at all times."

But why a stone? How can a person ask if someone has a stone hidden behind his back while he is talking? Very simple, very simple. It is a proverb, one of those proverbs that have been proven to be true many times and are not used or maintained for no reason. You should give someone your right hand, but keep a stone in your left. Having a knife behind your back was basically the same thing.

Always be polite and nice, no matter to whom, because every person deserves a certain amount of respect, even if that person is an absolute asshole. If that weren't the case, our society would go even further down the tubes than it already has. The point is to think your piece. Who is the asshole? That's the point. Who's the person who pretends to be friendly, and the next moment they hit you over the head with a rock?