Tristan woke up to the squawking of a bird. It took him a second to remember where he was.

"Dahlia! Dahlia!" a harsh voice was shouting.

"Cano, shhh." 

"Morning," Tristan grumbled at her, pulling off the blanket and sitting up to face her.

"Oh, you're awake already."

"What time is it?" he turned around watching Dahlia as she moved around in the kitchen.

"Almost 8," she was mixing something in a big bowl. Tristan looked around the apartment for the first time. The L-shaped kitchen was separated from the living room by an island. A bezique sofa and matching chair took up most of the area. Sunlight filtered through a window behind the chair. A grey bird was clicking loudly on the kitchen island.

Tristan was about to ask but Dahlia beat him to it, "How was your sleep?"

"Unexpectedly good."

"Good, I was worried the sofa wouldn't be comfortable. The guest bedroom was a mess," she tilted her head toward the bird.

"Oh it's alright, I wouldn't want to wake the bird anyway," he joked.

"He's a parrot actually," she chuckled at him, "And yes, we wouldn't want to wake my little Cano up," she turned to the parrot, scratching its head lightly, "Would we, know? Would we?" she asked it playfully.

"I wouldn't have taken you for an animal person."

"They're the most precious things."

"How adorable," Tristan teased her with a smirk.

"If you tease me again, I'll kick you out. Cano doesn't like you anyway."

"That can't be true," he spread his hand towards the bird trying to pet it. It bit at him but Tristan quickly pulled his hand out of reach. 

"Oh yes, he loves you," Dahlia laughed.

"You and your bird are evil, Ms. Garcia."

Dahlia waved a dismissive hand at him as she continued laughing, "Do you like eggs, Tristan?"

"I'm fine with them."

"Do you like potatoes."

"French fries?"

"What are you, six? No, potatoes."

"So only six-year-olds can have French fries now?"

"Go wash your face so we can have breakfast."

"You treat me like a child."

"Men are just big children, aren't they?"

Tristan didn't answer her as he stood up. He headed to the bathroom with a smile on his face.

"Fuck," he cursed as he removed the bandaids, fully grasping his injured face.

Dahlia tsked at him, "Don't curse. Cano will pick it up."

"Out of everything he'll pick that up?" he sassed, washing his face.

"Trust me, he picks up the worst words."

"Taffy!" the bird suddenly squawked.

A small brown and white cavalier was slowly making its way to the kitchen. It growled at Tristan as it passed the bathroom. 

"It's ok, Taffy, come here, baby," Dahlia soothed the dog. She carefully picked it up and gave it a few kisses before she put it back down next to a bowl of dog food. She then went back to making breakfast. Tristan stood there awkwardly. He was still in his work clothes. That's when he realized something was missing. He quickly looked around for his briefcase.

"On the couch," Dahlia pointed out. He sighed in relief as he spotted it.

"I realized you value your job, but not that much. You practically hugged that briefcase as you slept."

"It contains something more important than work," Tristan retorted. He wasn't lying but he also didn't give the full truth. Dahlia, as usual, didn't ask any more questions. It was a trait of hers that Tristan was very grateful for. His missions were always easier when people didn't stick their noses where they didn't belong.

"Will you get two plates from the cupboard?" she said instead.

"How long do you plan on keeping me hostage in this apartment, Ms. Garcia?" he quipped as he got two plates.

Tristan expected his manager to roll her eyes at him or perhaps let out one of her usual chuckles. What he didn't expect is that she deepen her voice, imitating a villain, as she said, "You shall never leave, mortal."

A startled laugh was let out and Tristan realized it was his. Dahlia joined in on the laughter as she plated the food.

"Just have breakfast, then you're free to go," she finally answered, "Should I drive you there?"

"No, no you've helped enough. I need to remove my car anyways."

"Alright, don't do anything stupid this weekend. I want you at work this Monday."

He smirked at her, "Can't survive without me, manager?"

"With that workload? Honestly, I wouldn't be able to survive if even one of you took a break," they sat down at the island, "And Finance is giving me such a headache too."

"What's going on with Finance?" Cano flew to the guest bedroom, he was making a lot of noise there.

"That's actually above your paycheck, Antonov."

He raised his hands in surrender, "Alright, alright, keep your secrets. Well, speaking of this weekend, can I perhaps treat you to dinner?"

Dahlia stopped chewing and thought for a moment, "I actually have a rendezvous later today and tomorrow I won't be free either."

"I see," Tristan said thoughtfully, "I just wanted to thank you for all of this," he gestured at the food, his face, and the sofa in that order. Cano was heard calling Taffy in the background. They caused a commotion in the guest room.

Dahlia let out a sigh, a tired one, "To thank me or to repay me for yesterday's dinner?"

"Why not thank you for that too?" Tristan was indeed bothered by the fact that she bought him dinner yesterday. He was used to treating others to making them feel special not the other way round. Being treated didn't feel as nice as people make it seem. He wouldn't show her that, however.

"Thank me by staying out of trouble, ok?"

"Yes, ma'am," he gave her a salute, his goofy smile made her chuckle. 

"Are they always this loud?" Tristan asked her with a nod to the guest bedroom.

"This is their house." 

They ate the rest of their breakfast in comfortable silence.

"This omelet is amazing," Tristan complimented after taking his last bite.

"Thanks, it's my mother's recipe, so naturally it can't be bad."

"Naturally," he let out a carefree laugh, even though his thoughts were anything but carefree. He didn't remember his mother's cooking at all. He was, after all, only two when he was taken away.

"I'll be going now," he stood up before thanking her for perhaps the tenth time during this whole interaction.

Dahlia smiled at him, "No problem at all."

He quickly gathered his things and left without another word. The mention of his parents had slightly soured his mood.

Going home was a long, silent car trip. Tristan felt his phone vibrate after letting off a notification sound. He opened it to find a message from corporate. Was it time for the first analysis already? The top agents from his job checked on the mission status at 4 intervals. But a quarter of this mission was about 112 days. And it was only January 14.

Tristan opened the message warily. "Mission 1736 First Analysis" was written in bold followed by the place and time of the meet-up. He had to travel all the way to Ottawa tomorrow. He was used to corporate having precautions. But traveling to another city was new.

"I suppose I too have a rendezvous," Tristan whispered to himself. Good thing Dahlia declined his invitation. He wouldn't know how to tell her that he can't come to the dinner that he asked her to.

"Thank you," Tristan handed the driver his money before leaving the car, making sure his briefcase was with him. He'd need to eat and pack quickly if he was to catch the flight booked by corporal.