“Thanks,” he said.
She gave him a long look. “I’m telling you this because I know you get it,” she said quietly. “Not so you can run your own op. You see something off, you call it in. You do not follow anyone into dark corners.”
The words hit memories he didn't dwell on; sand under his boots, radio crackle, a door that opened on something none of them had wanted to see.
“I hear you,” he said. “I won’t go cowboy.”
“Good,” she said. “I don’t feel like writing that report.”
Across the tent, someone called Diaz’s name. She lifted two fingers in acknowledgment.
“Your guy Colby,” she said, nodding toward the cooler. “He asked me earlier if there’s a way he can see any public bulletins about illegal parts circulating. I told him no; then I told him where to look anyway. He’s got a brain for patterns.”
“Yeah,” Hank said. “He does.”
“You keep him pointed at the legitimate side of that line,” Diaz said. “People who can see systems are valuable; they’re also tempting targets for the wrong kind of work.”
“I will,” Hank said.
She clapped his shoulder once, surprisingly warm. “Enjoy your night, James.”
He watched her head for the food line, then took a breath and went to find his own center of gravity.
Bree looked up as he approached. Her face lit; that still felt like a miracle.
“There you are,” she said. “I was telling Carmen about your Marine brain and how you tried to turn the studio into Fort Knox.”
“I did not,” he said. “Jason and I merely suggested that glass that shatters if you breathe on it is not optimal.”
Carmen smiled. “I like him,” she said to Bree. “He sounds like my insurance agent.”
Hank laughed. “Not the look I’m going for, but I’ll take competent over cool.”
Carmen shifted her weight, her Dragon-branded jacket suddenly looking out of place in a tent full of mixed fans and teams. She caught his eye, something like an apology crossing her face.
“Can we grab a few minutes later?” she asked. “You and Bree both. Somewhere quieter.”
“Sure,” he said. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” she said quickly. “Just… time for some overdue conversations.”
He filed the phrasing away. Overdue conversations rarely meant anything simple.
“Come find us,” Bree said. “We’re hard to miss.”
Carmen’s phone buzzed; she glanced at it and groaned. “That’s Mom,” she said. “She's worried about the issues here.”
Bree slipped her hand into Hank’s. “You good?” she asked.
“Diaz gave me a status update,” he said. “Rental car, shell company, nothing she can move on yet. They’re watching, they’re making themselves visible around our places. She reminded me not to chase anyone into alleys.”
Bree’s mouth twitched. “You needed that reminder?”
“Apparently,” he said. “I have a history.”
Her gaze softened. “You’re not on a deployment anymore.”
“I know,” he said. “Sometimes my muscle memory forgets.”
