The room itself was sparse, not offering up anything in the way of personal touches. Everything it held was functional, and it distinctly did not contain any weapons. It was doubtless more comfortable than a cell, and offered something more in privacy; that perhaps was the only thing it had going for it.

The privacy the new recruit enjoyed only lasted half an hour; the Asset returned to the room with a tray of food in one hand and a sleeping bag in the other. He set the tray at the small desk; the meal consisted of a chicken breast, canned peas, and rice, along with a glass of water. The utensils were plastic and useless as weapons; the sturdiest thing was the tray, a heavy sort of molded cardboard. All in all, it wasn't the worst meal in the world.

"You may eat," he said, brushing off the greeting. "And you may sleep in the bed tonight. Tomorrow your training will begin."

With that, he went about the beginning of his night routine, starting by taking a clean shirt and pants from the small dresser — clothes for sleeping, not for daily wear. With a sideways look at his companion he removed a second set of similar clothing from the drawer and left it at the foot of the bed for the boy. He'd use it or he wouldn't; the Asset was not bothered either way. He then disappeared into the bathroom for his own brief shower routine.