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Curt knocked on the door frame of the infirmity room. The Informant looked up and nodded, giving the agent approval to enter. Curt immediately noted that the man was still wrapped in bandages. He'd been shot, pretty badly. It was only by luck that the team tasked with removing the body had noticed his faint heartbeat. Curt couldn't bring himself to wonder what might've happened if they had left him there to die. How could he have been so stupid as to let that happen twice? The constant uneasy feeling in his stomach swelled as the thought of Owen once more. He's dead this time, I'm sure. He took a swig from his flask, and tucked it back into his pocket. He took a deep breath.
"Listen, I'm really so-"
"It's fine," The Informant responded, who had already anticipated the apology. "You didn't know I was alive. I would've made the same mistake." Curt looked at the verge of tears.
"Are you sure? Because-"
"I told you it's fine, don't make my change my mind," The Informant said, cutting him off a second time. Curt got the message and nodded. He rocked back and forth.
"Well- uh, that's the main thing I came in here to say. How are you?" He asked.
"I'm on some drugs, I think, so I'm alright," The Informant grinned. "When I get out of here we should go for some shots again, you, me, Barb, and your Russian girlfriend.
"She's not my girlfriend," Curt clarified, "And she's actually going away with her family."
"Well, good for her." The two sat in the awkward silence for a few moments.
"Curt, you're a homosexual, right?" The Informant asked abruptly. Curt took a step back, eyes widening.
"Wha- I- how- uh…" he grasped for anything to say. How did he know? Did I say something when I was drunk? Is The Informant going to blackmail me?
"It's fine, I'm not mad. But, you are, right?" Curt bit his lip, before nodding slowly. If Curt couldn't trust The Informant, he couldn't trust anyone.
"I… am," He said. It honestly felt nice. To tell another person besides Tatiana. The Informant didn't look mad. He seemed distant. Curt stepped back towards him. "Oh, are you-"
"No," The Informant said, snapping back to reality. "I mean- well- I like both. But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about." Curt was a little taken aback by how casually The Informant had just admitted that. He took a deep breath. It didn't matter; The Informant was his friend, and he would be there for him.
"Whatever it is, you can tell me," He told him. The Informant shut his eyes.
"Curt, what do you remember about that night we went drinking? In the New Democratic Republic of Old Socialist Prussian Slaviskia? The night before- y'know," He said, motioning to the gunshot wound. Curt thought back. It was all a haze.
"Well, we all went over to the bar and order shots, and after the first few, my memory is kinda… blah. I can't really remember." The Informant glanced away.
"I do. I mean, I remember a few things. And I was talking to you and… uh… are you sure you don't remember?" Curt shook his head, but tried his best to think back. The Informant looked down at his hands. "It started with you asking why I went undercover as a woman."
"So," Curt said, his words slurred and slightly incoherent. "Why were you undercover as- you were- as a girl?" He asked, waving a beer bottle around. Barb and Tatiana were half-asleep the next table over. The Informant set down his shot glass and glanced down at himself. He was still wearing the dress he'd used for his disguise.
"Uuuhhhh, I dunno, dresses make me feel pretty," He said, fumbling around for another drink.
"Not handsome?" Curt asked.
"No. Pretty. Like a girl. I like being a girl," He said taking another shot.
"Cool," Curt said. "You're a girl?"
"I dunno. I guess. Don't-" The Informant laughed a bit, "Don't tell anyone."
"Mmmmkayy," Curt said, laying his head down on the table.
"Oh," Curt said, remembering it now. The Informant nodded. Curt glanced around, unsure about what to say. "So-"
"You know what, just- just forget about it. It doesn't matter," The Informant said, adjusting the sheets of the bed uncomfortably. "Forget I-"
"It's alright," Curt said, placing his hand on the bed frame. "Do you… want to be a girl?" The Informant nodded, almost no hesitation. Curt smiled. "So- do you want me to tell Barb and Cynthia and-"
"No," The Informant responded. "Not yet. Just… I'd like it if maybe you thought of me as a girl. As a 'she'. That would be… cool." Curt nodded.
"Of course," Curt said, sitting down on the floor, leaning on the bedside table. "You know, when I was with Owen-"
"You were with Owen! Hah, Cynthia owes me so much money," The Informant laughed. Curt gritted his teeth and decided to ignore that.
"Yeah- don't- the 'who' isn't important. The thing is, when I was with him, we sometimes talked about when we got bullied as kids. People called us girls and stuff- to be mean. Owen didn't like it but… I dunno, it wasn't that bad for me." He stared at his hands.
"Do you think you might be-" The Informant began. Curt shook his head before she could finish.
"No, I'm not a girl. But- I don't know if I'm a guy either. There's not- there's not a word for what I am. I'm just me, I guess." The Informant considered this.
"Well, whatever you are… you're my friend," The Informant told him. Curt smiled.
"Thanks."