"I don't like that man... I must get to know him better." ~Abraham Lincoln

Click. Click. Click...

Price felt a presence in the room with his as he pushed the last round into his magazine. Jessica was leaning in through the window to the covered range.

"Good morning, sir."

A grin of recognition crossed his face. "Good morning, Sergeant Repp. I imagine you slept well last night? I haven't seen you show up this early in-"

"Price, I need to talk to you about last night." She covered her mouth, realizing she had interrupted him, and breathed out a sigh when he waited for her to continue. "Listen, I'm really sorry you saw me break down like that. I've not been myself since Russia, and normally I try not to burden anyone with my problems, but last night I just... couldn't keep myself together? But it made me realize that I need to start pulling my weight again; I want to make it up to you and..."

"You're not a burden." She looked up at him and he stood up, stepping to the window. "I'm glad you'll be taking your job seriously again, but you don't have to make anything up to me. Just show up early like you're supposed to and do your job, and if you need help, ask." He leaned against the wall so that his elbows rested on the window sill across from her. "I'm here when you need me."

Her eyes scrolled him up and down. "You're sure?"

"Of course. We're a team, and teammates look out for each other."

She scoffed, sliding her hand across the rough wooden sill next to his. "I meant you're sure I don't have to make it up to you."

"You make it sound like you want me to reprimand you," he purred.

"No, sir. I just wanted to make sure we're good." 

A tiny spark of electricity bit her fingers as he laid his hand over the top of hers with a chuckle. "Yeah, Jess. We're good." He patted her hand and stepped out the door beside her. "Grab a sniper. We've got the long range to ourselves today."

She watched him go, rubbing her fingertips over the divet in her chest and noticed a warmth radiating from it. Her hand was still tingling from his touch and she felt a mild grin pulling at her mouth. "Yes, sir..."

Griffen grumbled to himself as yet another shot pulled to the right. "Gal, can you take a look at this?" She looked up at him and he adjusted himself. "I feel like I'm sitting perfectly still, but all of my shots are going astray, and I've adjusted this stupid scope a million times."

She knelt beside him and eyes his shoulder, noticing it stiffening as he fired. "Ah, you're jerking your shots. Relax this muscle right here." She poked her finger into the muscle in his back and smiled when his next shot hit the center of the paper. "Perfect!"

"You'd think I'd have the hang of this by now..."

Jess settled back down beside him, gazing down her scope. "No worries, Private. We all do it. Even I jerk shots now and then when I'm not focusing."

He scoffed. "No way in hell, mate, I've seen you shoot. You're damn good."

"I'm still not perfect."

"Really?" He narrowed his eyes. "Prove it."

"Well, I'm not gonna mess up on purpose just to make you feel better." She breathed out half-way and began to squeeze the trigger.

"BOO."

POW!

Jessica bristled as she saw the shot pierce the target far outside of her grouping in the center. Griffen was laughing and she rolled over to see Ghost standing above her. "Really, you dill weed?"

He guffawed and stepped backward away from her. "Hey, you said you wouldn't mess up on purpose, I figured you'd do it on accident."

"You messed up my grouping, Riley." 

"It was worth it to hear you call me a 'dill weed'."

"Could have called you worse..." She rolled back over, shaking her head with a grin. "Now quit harassing me, I'm trying to shoot."

"Harassing you?" His golden brown eyes flashed with a challenge as he tipped down his shades. "Sweetheart, you haven't seen anything yet."

As he walked away, she felt a knot of excitement and dread well in her stomach. What was she in for?

The rag came out black as she passed it through the barrel again. Jessica grumbled to herself and took a sip from her canteen, picking up the brush to scrub it more vigorously this time. She pushed the rag through again. Still black. "Damn..."

"You're gonna sand the rifling out of that thing you keep scrubbing it like that."

She doubled over her weapon and sighed in defeat. "Is that your way of offering to clean it for me, Ghost?"

He chuckled and sat beside her. "No way, mate. That's your mess, you clean it up." As he watched her continue to clean the rifle, he slowly, carefully reached down for her canteen and she slapped his hand; he pulled back with a wince, but still smiled playfully. "Defensive."

She smiled and shook her head. "I don't want your grimy hands in my water."

"I washed 'em! See?" He put a hand in her face and she snapped at him, her teeth clacking together threateningly close to his palm.

"Watch yourself, mate, I bite."

"Clearly." He stood up with a slap on his knees. "Good luck getting that thing cleaned; looks like you've got a ways to go."

She sighed again with a shake of her head, passing the rag through once more, happy to finally see it come out mostly clean.

"Y'know, I'm not convinced this is just water."

Jessica lurched when Ghost's massive hand snatched the canteen from her grasp outside the armory. "'Ey!" She turned to take it back, but he held it high above his head and out of reach. "Give it back! I'm still thirsty!"

He pushed her away with his hand and smiled. "Well, you're in good company, I'm thirsty, too!" Ghost rolled the bottom of his balaclava up so that just his mouth was visible and he tipped the canteen toward his lips.

"Don't you put your lips on that!" She jumped again and he raised it back over his head. "I don't know where your mouth has been."

"On your mum."

Her eyes widened and she jumped even more frantically now. "What are you, a child??" 

"What are you, a midget?" 

"No, you're just freakishly tall!" 

He flashed her a devilish smile and rolled his mask back down. "Hardly. Look how damn short you are~!" 

"Give. It. Back!"

"Well then come get it, kitten." 

With one last mighty leap, she shifted, her weight settling on his shoulders as she clasped the neck of the canteen in her jaws. Off balance, the two toppled over backward, Galaxy landing neatly on his torso, crushing a wheezing breath from his lungs. She scrambled backward off of him, nervous when he didn't make a sound and she looked him over. "Oh shit... Did I kill you?"

He finally sucked in a breath and laughed, offering her a bewildered look. "Oh... I suppose 'pup' would have been more fitting, eh?" Ghost groaned as he sat up, coughing and rubbing his sore chest.

She cocked her head to the side, brows furrowed. "Most people aren't this calm when they find out I can do this."

"Yeah, well most people aren't crazy. I've seen some shit, and trust me, this isn't even the weirdest thing I've seen."

Gal sat down across from him and scoffed. "Really? You've seen something weirder than me?"

"Plenty. PTSD hallucinations are a bitch, mate." He casually picked up the canteen from where she left it on the ground, rolled up his balaclava once more, and took a swig, bracing as she jumped on him again, this time biting at the accessory atop his head. 

"Well, I never would have guessed you were crazy. But an asshole? Absolutely." She snickered and stepped off his shoulders, shaking out her ears before she shifted back and rose to her feet, extending her hand to hoist him up.

"Well, I never would have taken you for a Velksen, but a feisty pain in the ass? Sure." He took her hand and looked down at her. "You're spicy, though, I like it."

She smiled, this time more genuinely. "I've never heard anyone call me a Velksen before..."

"That is what you are, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's just, most people think I'm a werewolf or a skinwalker. The only other person who I told I was a Velksen was..." She paused, looking him up and down before pushing the thought back into the recesses of her mind. "You done drinking my water, Ghost?"

He nodded and capped the canteen, handing it back to her. "I think so." He readjusted his balaclava and looked toward the parking lot. "Hey, Roach and I were going to play some billiards tonight. You in the mood to tag along?"

"Boo! You shoot pistols like you shoot cues!"

Price leaned out of his station at the covered range when he heard snickering. Jessica bounced a bullet casing off Roach's chest and he gave her back a shove. "Stop breathing down my neck so I can get a proper shot."

"That's funny," said Ghost. "That's what she said last night when she sunk that 8 ball."

She took aim and pulled the trigger, bracing as the shot missed. With a pout, she gritted her teeth together and rapid-fired until the slide stuck open. "There! You happy now, Roach?"

He nodded approvingly. "Look at that, you actually hit center of mass that time."

"Sod off mate." Ghost folded his arms with a laugh. "Try it again; I think you can do better than that."

She reloaded, giving him a smirk and fired again, this time hitting the dead center of the target. Seven more bullets later, they were all giddy to see she had destroyed the center of the paper. "See? I actually can aim, you idiots just make me laugh and I can't focus."

"Just like a woman to blame a man for all her problems." Ghost caught her hat off her head and ruffled her hair before slapping it back on.

Soap called for the final cease-fire. "Retrieve your targets and get your gear squared away. Roll call is at 18:30 as always; don't miss it this time, Stevens. Let's get out o' here, go, go!"

Outside Price caught up with Jess and his eyes gleamed excitedly. "Hey, that's Gaz's pistol! Haven't seen it since he sent it in. How do you like it?"

"It's nice," she chirped. "Did you want to look at it?" When he nodded, she dropped the empty magazine into her hand and pulled back the slide to clear the weapon. 

He turned it over in his hands, aiming it toward the ground beside him to look down the sights. "It's a beauty. He had modifications done to it, didn't he?"

She shrugged her shoulders up to her ears in a stretch. "Yeah. Just got the thing cleaned up a little, got rid of some scratches and stuff."

Price froze, his eyes trained solidly on the slide. She felt a knot in her stomach. He noticed... Nervous, she turned her eyes up from the gun to his face and saw a mild grin on his mouth, but when he returned her gaze as he handed it back to her, his eyes didn't match.

"It's very nice... must've really liked you to give you such a beautiful weapon."

"Yeah..." She hesitantly took it from his hand and tucked it into her holster. "Thank you, sir."

He nodded, his head sinking toward the ground at first before he jerked it up high and looked ahead at Soap. "I'll see you at Roll Call later, eh?"

"Yeah, of course..." As he walked away, she sighed, feeling something heavy on her shoulders, like guilt but not as severe. She rubbed at her chest, the tingling giving way to an anxious pit, and at that moment wished that she had never handed him the gun.