Jim sighed quietly, closing his eyes and calming his breathing in an attempt to calm Sebastian’s racing heart down. It was critical that the sniper remain calm, keep his emotions in check, because otherwise it risked ruining his shot. And Sebastian never missed.
“Do you sleep better in your own bed?” Jim asked him quietly, wondering if that was part of the problem. Even if there had been evidence that Seb had slept here in his absence too.
"No." Barely slept at all, truth told, but most nights had found him ensconced in Jim’s bed, he’d even had it moved from flat to flat, pounding away on his laptop or sifting through stacks of paper. He wasn’t Jim, he couldn’t do it all in his head. He needed maps and facts and figures spread out infront of him. Needed plans in black and white unless there was a gun in his hand.
Report to superior officer. “Smells wrong there.”