Break Room 3 (Smoking allowed)

It's a standard sized break room, with chairs and an outdated tacky couch.  There are counters, coffee machine, and a fridge.

Banks walks into the break room, his black steel toed boots echo off the red and blue tile floor.  Carrying a manilla folder in his left hand, and a large cup of coffee in his right.  Taking a seat in the well worn leather chair, he places the folder down on the mahogany table.  Flipping it open he takes a sip of his cup of Joe.  Glancing through the files, he ponders over the individual in the picture before him.

Emily entered the room quickly, eyes locked on the machine on the countertop that produced black gold. She moved across the quietly, enjoying that fact that her position in the foundation exempt her from the dress code requirement for some sort of heeled shoe. Considering such delicate work as her's required the highest level of concentration, and any time spent worrying about something like balance could easily result in someone going from an academic to a state liability. Setting her mug on the counter, she quickly gripped the handle of the coffee pot and poured the last of the of it's contents into her personal mug. Checking the temperature of the contents, she sighed happily as the liquid was near perfect.
Removed from her musings by the sound of papers turning, Murakami looked over at the man seated at the table. She quickly eyed his I.D. badge, recognizing the agent markings. "Hunt any good 'Skips' down today, eh?" She said with a coy smile, making finger quotes when saying "skips" as a way to poke fun at the lingo Agent's used to keep speech quick and easy.

Banks looks up not realizing that someone else was in the room with him, he offers her a somewhat forced smile. Taking another sip, he puts the drink down pulling out a pack of cigarettes.  "Not that type of agent I'm afraid... do you mind?"

He didn't really care what she said he was going to light one, the amount of info he was reading really caused him to need a smoke.  Running his free hand through his black hair, he let out a heavy breath of air.

The door to the break room door quickly swings open and bangs loudly against the wall.
"Ah... It's good to be back!" Dr.Nova announces as she steps into the room. She takes off her safari hat and rounded faux jeweled sunglasses and tosses them on to the coffee table as she makes a beeline to the fridge, where she grabs a bottle of water and chugs it. Only after she finishes her bottle of water, crushing it and tossing it in the trash, she notices the other two in the room.
"Oh. Um sorry about that. It's been a while since I had actual cold water," she says sheepishly.

She smiles back, "No I don't mind, but I do mind the Cancer sticks." Her eyes quickly move to the pack of cigarettes and back to his. What type of agent are you then, if you don't mind-" She finds herself cut off by the loud and sudden noise of an oddly dressed woman entering the room. She looked at the woman wide eyed, obviously unable to handle situations like this. "D-do you mind? this is supposed to be a stress free zone!" She manages to stutter out.

Banks looks to the woman who interrupted the peace of the room, "Cold water is not something to stampede into a room like an elephant.  As for your question miss," he turns back Emily, "I'm more of a security agent; making sure that leaks of the foundation don't happen."
Taking out a cigarette he places it in his mouth, but makes no motion to light it; instead letting it just hang there.  Steven honestly saw no point in angering this medical professional by lighting his smoke.  Flipping to another page of the document he was reading.

Lola's sheepish look hardens into a pout.
"Well, excuse me if I've been in the scouring the desert for a year and a half," she says to the man with the file. "Hopefully you can understand why I'm this thirsty."
"And I'm sorry to disturb you doctor," she adds turning to the finely dressed woman at the coffee machine. She reaches into the fridge and grabs another water bottle before addressing them both kind of annoyed. She knew she was in the wrong, and by the outfits of these people, they seemed higher level then her. She sighed, knowing she wasn't a junior researcher any more she had to treat others with more respect if she wanted to get ahead in this site.
"I won't kick the door open again. That was careless of me. I'm sorry"

Banks grunts, pulling out a lighter and lighting his cigarette.  Taking a slow drag he glances over at the woman recognizing her badge as one of a researcher.  "So what were you scouting out in the desert for the past year and a half?"
Picking up the mug Banks takes another swig of the hot beverage, he looks at the researcher from over the ridge of his sunglasses.  He knew he was procrastinating, but honestly who cared?  The folder didn't offer much that he didn't already know, besides he hadn't actually tried being civil in quite some time.

Even though she has a feeling that they are a higher level than her. She still goes over to the man with the cigarette, licks her fingers, and pinches the tip until the cigarette until it is out.
"I'm sorry sir, but no one has been able to smoke in buildings since the 70's. Let alone smoking in the same building as a lab? You must be asking to burn this place down," she says eyeing him suspiciously.
She crosses the room and takes a seat on the end of the couch. Cracks open the water bottle and takes a lady like sip from it, as she kicks up her feet on the coffee table. Her shoes leave a puddle of sand under her.
"Well if you must know, my team and I were checking up on a story of SCP-1867's where there was a magnificent plate that had been shattered to pieces and dumped into the desert because of a curse it could bring upon the holder of the plate. We did find pieces of a plate in the desert and we brought it back to the lab for testing. I'm hoping we didn't waist our time digging in the sand."

Dima kicked the door open with a large boot and brought in a large olive green crate with a red and white stocked that said WARNING and another one labeling it as something explosive. Setting it and the bottle of vodka he had brought on the table, he produced a multitool from his belt and began to remove the lid from the crate.

Banks levels a glare at the women, "Yes I forgot about the lab two halls away... and when did we start fallowing arbitrary laws laid out by the US government?  Besides if you look at the law you'll see that it's for restaurants and other eating establishments.  Finally this is Break Room 3 the one room where we're allowed to smoke on site."
Turning his head from the woman, rubbing the spit out of his cigarette, he relights his smoke. Looking instead at the man with the box, cocking an eyebrow at the explosive warning Steven asks, "What's in the box?'

"White Phosphorus grenades, I found them scrounging through an abandoned weapons locker, I hope I can try this out on a specimen of SCP-610." said Dima in his Russian accent. Withdrawing one of the grenades, he made sure the pin war twisted so it couldn't be accidentally pulled. "
They seem to be in almost brand new condition!" he marvelled.

Banks slipped the tobacco rolled paper from one side of his mouth to the other. "Not really sure if we have any instances near by. If we do find some, it all depends on where your field of expertise lies," glancing at the man's badge Banks relizes the man's an agent, "Which task force they got you on?"

"Beta-7, Maz, Hatters, destroying biological threats with bullets and bombs. Thermobaric rounds work well too." said Dima. "How about yourself?"

"I'm unassigned at the moment, I mainly work with security making sure leaks don't happen." Banks says before taking a long drag of tobacco, closing his file.  He motions to the box of grenades, "Are you sure those are safe I remember reading somewhere that types like those were best kept underwater."

"Not the grenades, the Phosphorus itself needs to be stored in gasoline, but when it is in here, it is fine." he said, holding one of them up. "The UN has banned its use on humans, but then again, we tend to only deal with ones who can hardly claim the title of human."

"That we do. I hope you get the clearance because out of everything we deal with, that particular one, I feel, posses the greatest threat to humanity," taking the cig out of his mouth Banks takes another swig of coffee.

"Yes, SCP-610 does scare me. I was on a team sent in by the Russian Government to deal with the first known outbreak, most of my men were lost." Dima said with a sad time. Opening the bottle of vodka, he took a swig. " SCP-628 is also a great threat, but there is only one of its kind, we have entire towns taken over by 610."

Lola quickly took her sunglasses and safari hat off the table when she saw the man with the crate heading for the coffee table. She glared at the man with the cigarette for a while as he and the russian man talked. She was going to ask if it was ok to smoke with those grenades around, and if the russian man was sure if he should be drinking on the job, but she decided if she was going to blow up, it might as well be today.
She takes a sip from her water bottle.
"I'm sorry about your team," she pipes up.

Grace opened the door to the brake room. She had a face that only a person with pure hatred and sadness in their heart would have, storming to the coffee machine getting a cup of coffee hoping that this would help her cope with all of this. The  betrayal that he did to him and the foundation. Grace  dropped her mug not thinking straight, she  swore out loud  and notice everyone looking at her .

"As am I, but their number came up, just as mine will some day, all I can do is live on with memories of them in my head," said Dima with a heavy sigh. Returning the grenade to its box, he put the lid back on and then produced a Glock 20 from his belt. He was in the middle of clearing the weapon when the when he heard the glass shatter. Looking up, he saw the angry woman standing over the shattered pile of ceramics that used to be the glass. Standing, he set the pistol down and walked over to the site of the accident.

"Damn it !" Grace said  angry , looking at the person investigatin and the spill " I'll clean up don't worry ..." she quickly began cleaning the floor and picking up the ceramics off the floor with an angry frown, frustrated with these past few days with all the interrogations and heart breaks .

Lola nods thoughtfully at what her russian aquantainch had said about the their numbers coming up, when suddenly, CRASH. She jumps when she hears the ceramic hit the tile floor, and her head whips around to face the women at the coffee machine. One with a mug in her hand and one with a shattered mug at her feet.
"You ok there?" she asks awkwardly.

Banks flips the file open once more, mentally face palming when he realizes he left an important document he needs in his room.  Sighing he puts the cigarette out in the ashtray in the middle of the table, sitting right next to the wooden crate of explosives.  Flipping over to the second page in his document; pulling a picture out of the folder, he looks up at the woman who just entered the room.  "Excuse me would you happen to be one Miss Grace Mcalister?"