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Summary
He's tired of looking in the mirror and seeing a stranger- the beard he'd grown in the Russian prison is long and scraggly, uncomfortable and itchy, and he's ready for it to be gone.
The bathroom at the hotel they were staying in was fairly nice; the government had gotten them significantly nicer digs than the crap motel in Alaska, a place with continental breakfast and endless hot water and sheets without stains. Joyce was humming softly in the main room, mindlessly flicking through channels on the television as she stretched out on one of the queen-sized beds.