It was still dark out, and most of the city was vast asleep. 'Most of the city', but not the current occupant of apartment 3A. B.A. Baracus got up at 5:00 hours sharp. 'Bad attitude' maybe, but excellent punctuality. The apartment was far from being described as 'outstanding accomodations' but it'd do, only serving as a temporary place to stay. And it did beat the average ratty motel, though not by a whole lot. In the end it didn't matter, as long as his van was nearby he'd put up with anything – the trademark vehicle feeling more like home than any random building probably could.
He quickly looked away as he opened the fridge, his eyes still unaccustomed to the bright light this early, having gotten dressed in the dimmer light a hanging lamp offered. He reached for the milk carton and poured himself a big glass and went on to fix himself a few sandwiches. His Momma had always taught him the importance of breakfast; it was the foundation of your energy for the day and he'd tried to have a good breakfast every morning since he was a kid. No matter what crazy business Hannibal got them into in a day, he was going to make sure it wouldn't be on an empty stomach.
As B.A. calmly enjoyed his breakfast, and the stylistically dubious 70's wall-clock left by a previous tenant showed 5:35.
Finished, he set the plate and empty glass by the small sink, grabbed his keys and headed out the door.
Inside the van, still chilly this early in the morning, the dashboard clock read 5:40. If his estimate was correct – traffic taken into consideration – he'd reach Hannbibal at 6:10 exactly and have plenty of time to pick up Faceman and the fool just as they'd agreed on.
Momma raised him to be good on his word, after all.