While he was aware his disappointment had filtered, though he couldn't figure out why because they had been in one another's presence no more than half an hour before, he was forced to endure the tingle of protective anger. He curled a lip in the face of it, not needing the protection of anyone because he was strong enough to do for himself what had never been done for him in the past. He was on his own regardless of the damn bond.

His nostrils continued to flare with each breath, drinking in the scent that he mentally tagged as 'Wilson'. It was rich and fresh, like the air on a clear day after the fog had gotten burnt off, but just a touch of dirty, gunpowder, and something warm. He spent time considering it, rolling it over in his mind, since the last time he had actually scented an alpha he had probably been about seventeen and rebelling full force against his nature but still desperate for connection.

He froze when Sam stepped in, clearly scenting him, and he stiffened at the feel of warm skin against his forehead. He momentarily bristled before tiredly sighed and nodded. It had been a rough heat. He hadn't slept much.

Sam's scent and the warm radiating from the man fogged him momentarily. In a gesture he would be caught dead doing or admitting to, his left arm rose between them to pull away Sam's uniform collar so his right arm crossed to rub the scent gland on his wrist over the one on Sam's neck. His head tipped, nudging noses before realizing what was happening and immediately moving to back off.

"Good, that's the only quarter, I want. Everything else doesn't matter. CIA still tortures people, right?"