"Yes, Ni-ki-tah," Michael said exhaling, glancing down at the impatient young blonde twirling her hair and smacking her gum who occupied the extra chair in his office. He smoothly skirted her long legs, unbuttoning his jacket, as he took a seat behind his desk, focusing on his monitor.

A few ops liked to joke that she'd almost become a regular fixture. For instance, on the last simulated practice mission for new recruits, a few of the veteran ops were letting off some steam in the van, just prior to leaving Command Center. Michael graciously put up with likeable wise-ass Chuck's ribbing. A Level 2 Op, Chuck winked, then slyly cracked, "Hey Michael, isn't one of the perks of being a Level Five Op, is that your office comes complete with a sexy long-legged blonde?"

The other ops seated in the van ceased their loud salty ribaldry, and immediately glanced at Michael, holding their breath in case he took offense. When they saw one corner of his mouth quirk upward slightly, and heard his quiet dry response, "I doubt you'll ever find out Chuck." They knew it was okay to relax, and laughed even more heartily at the joke between the two men, in no small part from relief, as Michael Sammuelle was not a warm, fuzzy ha-ha kind of guy.

Section Operatives had a healthy dose of fear, respect and admiration with regards to Michael, but you sure didn't 'pal,' around with the guy. Chuck was just charming enough to get away with it.

"What's funny?" said Nikita smiling, hearing the commotion, as she lightly hopped in the van. A huge parka dwarfed her frame, and her hair hung in a long braid down her back.

The all-male contingent on this sim regarded her affectionately, and immediately made room, each one hoping she'd sit next to them. Michael watched this transpire with an impassive, vaguely indulgent expression, then remarked in answer to her question, "You had to be here. If you weren't running late, you would have heard the punch line."

"Late? I was on time!" Nikita said indignantly pointing to her watch, "You said 7:30!"

"You clocked in at 7:31," Michael said.

"But --," Nikita started, wide blue eyes amazed.

"Start time is actually 7:40," Michael continued, "I knew you'd need a cushion."

"Oh! So I'm actually early," she said smugly, lifting her chin.

Then with a stern expression, "Through no fault of your own."

Nikita sullenly leaned her head back against the van interior and regarded Michael with slightly wounded eyes. He always rode her worse than everyone, she pouted.

Chuck nudged her with an elbow, and remarked seemingly serious, "You know Nik, it's a rare occurrence, but uh...I have heard of new recruits being cancelled due to excessive 'dilly-dallying.'

Big blue eyes regarded him suspiciously, though anxiously, and immediately looked to Michael for confirmation. Michael let her sweat it out, making her more nervous, as he looked at the atomic clock in the van, and appeared to notate something in the computer. Was he putting something on her timesheet?

Finally, he looked up, his brows lifting slightly, and replied softly, "Chuck's joking Nikita."

The van erupted into hoots and hollers. "He really had you!," "Did you see the look on her face?!" "Priceless!"

Nikita, elbowed Chuck in the stomach.

"Alright! Let's move out!" Michael announced, shutting down the playful atmosphere immediately.

Nikita glanced up at Michael, and saw him watching her intently, a small smile threatened to break through her pout.

Then he was all business, "Okay, take a look at the building graphics on your panels please...."

..and so were they, the team put their game faces on, and proceeded with the simulation.