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for the duration, with Garret hiding in the background and coaching Teigan how to live Garret’s life. Which brought up the question: What life?
    This entire situation was bizarre. How was he supposed to impersonate someone when he’d found absolutely no clues into what made Garret tick? He supposed he’d better get his poker face on, because thus far, it was the only expression he’d seen cross the super-soldier’s face. Correction: ex-super-soldier.  
    What had made Garret decide to take the option and leave? It wasn’t like he’d left so he could have a real life. Sitting around this sterile, cold place pumping iron and watching silent games on the wall screen was no life. Maybe Garret was just too emotionally detached to care about being a good little soldier. At least Cartwright had seemed exasperated by John. Teigan considered that a good measuring stick: If you weren’t annoyed by John, you weren’t human. Garret hadn’t even blinked when John blatantly insulted him, insinuating they were there because the government believed he was probably involved in the recent deaths. Which was partially true, but damn, if it was him, he'd be pissed.
    Teigan moved back into the office that had been converted into a command center, the screen displaying a rotating four-up of the perimeter cameras. With Morris outside, Carthridge taking a quick cat nap, and John gone for the night, it was just him and his bro.
    He plunked an open beer down on the desk beside his brother.
    Garret twisted his head as he picked up the bottle. “Trying to soften me up some so I won’t knife you later?”
    Teigan grimaced. “You have to excuse John, he’s just…”
    “An idiot?” Garret supplied. He leaned back in the chair and raised the beer bottle to his lips, taking a swig.
    “No…” Teigan answered carefully, somewhat taken aback by the delayed response to John’s earlier comments but at the same time irrationally relieved at the altogether human reaction. “I was going to say he’s just John.”  
    He settled into the chair next to Garret, glancing over the live shots of the exterior. “Actually John is very intelligent. But his social skills…”
    “Suck,” Garret finished for him. “Personally, I’d question his IQ. Normally you don’t go around telling the person you’re supposed to be spying on that you suspect him.”
    “And?” Teigan settled into his chair, folding his arms.
    “And?” Garret shot back.
    “Should I suspect you?” There, get it out in the open. Teigan had never been good at pussyfooting if he thought it a waste of time and he couldn’t see any motivation for Garret turning on his brethren.  
    “Noah was one of the brothers I once blood swore to stand with, fight with, and die with if it ever came to that.” Garret’s knuckles tightened around the beer until Teigan thought he might break the frosted glass. Garret glanced down, easing his grip and took a long sip of the brew. “Besides, I’ve never had enough unmonitored time to pull off something like that.”
    Teigan mulled that over. To some extent that was true, but as Whitesman pointed out, there had been pockets of opportunity. “You’re a night-shift security guard,” he stated.
    “I am.” Garret slid him a glance. “Which Uncle loves because they can request the surveillance footage whenever they want to see me walking the halls.”
    “Surveillance footage you are responsible for transferring onto data chips and filing.” Teigan made the statement carefully, watching Garret for his reaction. He got one, alright.
    “Fuck. You’re kidding me, right?” Garret erupted, slamming his beer down.  
    Teigan kept his own response under tight wraps.
    Garret’s eyes hardened, he went on, his tone calm and even. Eruption capped. “Uncle runs standard spot checks on me at least four or five times a week. Even if I were willing to risk getting caught when I snuck out, I wouldn’t know for sure if they’d reactivated the locator