She could have talked about something painful for hours: it was normal things that were beyond her. She didn't know sports teams, she knew war. She knew battle strategy and breach techniques and how to disarm an anti-personnel mine in under a minute with someone else's foot still on it, but she couldn't do small talk. The weather, the news, clothes? What did she know about those?

Quynh had been the one to drag her out at night in slim cigarette pants and a button-up, a silly carefree smile on her face so broad she thought her cheeks would seize as they tugged each other across roads and sidewalks and through markets.

"I..." Shouldn't intrude, didn't plan to stay, didn't want to be a burden, all the reasons flitted through Andy's head, but none materialized into words. "I'm... Here," she said, halting even as she pulled her phone free of her pocket: when she unlocked the screen, a face was smiling out, a Vietnamese woman with silky black hair and beautiful eyes. Andy swallowed when she looked at it, but handed it to Nicky. "You can put yourself in. If you do that."