orgilotes | so little time and only passing through

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modern au,
psl

so little time and only passing through

Andy kept her face down in her book, though she knew exactly how many people were in the café with her. She knew where they were in the room, what they were carrying, whether they were armed. She knew the man at her left elbow, sitting at the next table over, was a veteran from somewhere. Somewhere evidently not happy, given his service animal parked under the table by his feet. She glanced up at and past him, thumb marking her place in her book as she flicked the other fingers of her free hand clear of crumbs.

The café had baklava, and it--and pizza--were her weaknesses with food. It was so delicate and sweet, and she'd never forget how heavenly it had tasted the first time Quynh had pushed it to her lips, insistent. Quynh was always insistent, and had been even in her assurances to Andy that they'd always be together. And they had.

Until they hadn't.

Whether Quynh was actually dead or not Andy didn't know: they'd met on a foreign joint-operation and taken to one another immediately, and over the long, long months between when that operation had ended and when they'd met again Quynh had been in every one of Andy's dreams. Then she'd gotten time for rest-and-rec and Andy hadn't even questioned where she'd go, or who she'd see. They hadn't left the bed for an entire day. And things had gone that way for a long time, with letters and emails passing between them to mark the inanities of their lives, teaching each other their own languages--Andy spoke several, though for work she mostly stuck to Hebrew, and Quynh had been startled to learn her native tongue was Ossetian. They would meet and part, and spend time together, growing ever closer and happy. But the time when Quynh was supposed to meet Andy in Tel Aviv, Andy had opened the door to find two somber uniformed officers instead.

Her stomach had dropped like a lead weight and she didn't remember the rest of the next two weeks. Her unit didn't know exactly what had happened, but Andy was cooler, meaner: gone were even the little passing, laughing smiles that had lit her face occasionally at their jokes and jibes. None of them knew about Quynh, but they knew something was off. But they came and went, rotated on and off the unit, and Andy stayed. She was good at what she did, and what she did was good for the unit. Until three months ago it very abruptly hadn't been, and that brought her here.

Sitting at a café, trying to read and not concentrate on the dog whining at her, or the telltale buzzing in the back of her head that, had she been paying attention to it, would have heralded a trauma spiral about to begin. She just wanted to read. Quynh had always talked about traveling: she devoured travel guides and books about far-off places, marveling that the world was so easy to traverse now. There had been no excuse in her mind to not go, see things, meet people. It was why Andy was sitting in Rome, her hands cradling a guide book with trembling fingers, eyes closed in useless defense against the chatter of Italian she didn't speak.

"Can you stop her doing that?"

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He'd noticed the woman as soon as he'd gotten there, no doubt as she had noticed him. Danger acknowledged danger, after all. It happened just as easily as him making a mental note of where the exits were. Habit. He almost took no notice of it, even though it took up a good portion of his mental faculties.

Of course, one didn't exactly need the think a whole lot about ordering soup, a sandwich, and a cappuccino that was only just acceptable to order. The waitress, she seemed to know him, 'tsk'ed a little at him and he offered her a small smile before handing back the menu that he hadn't bothered to open. He was obviously a regular.

At his feet, Gioia had tucked herself mostly under his chair, her haunches between his feet and her head dainty on her paws. She was facing away from him, watching his six, and any time that someone walked behind him, Andy might notice her nose come up to nudge at his thigh before she settled back down again. He thanked her softly for each nudge, reaching down to lightly pet her ears each time.

Today was a good day. He'd slept. He'd woken up before noon. He'd managed to not got lost in his own head staring at the empty spot next to him in the far too large bed. It was a good day. So when Gioia slid back out from under his chair and put a paw on his knee, he blinked in confusion. She was alerting to his anxiety...but he wasn't hitting any of his internal markers?

"Sono qui, ragazza. Sono qui." He murmured it, fully expecting her to return to her post under his chair once she was reassured. She didn't. Her paw once more was set onto his knee, more insistent this time. Again, he reassured her. Again, she dug at his knee with her paw. This time she added a small whine and this time her focus wasn't on him. It was on the woman to his right. The woman who was asking him to make Gioia stop whining.

He arched a brow and turned a little to better face the stranger. When he spoke, his accent was noticeable but his words were fluent. If quiet.

"I apologize. She's never alerted to anyone else before. Are you alright?"

Edited 2020-09-23 19:16 (UTC)

Her back was tight, and her movements too precision-sharp to be anything but military when she turned: her head cocked just enough to favor one ear over the other, but she didn't face him. Andy didn't want to present that much of a target. It--and, she supposed, the mismatched dogtags hanging around her neck--marked her as a soldier, and one clearly not doing a fabulous job reintegrating to anything not a warzone.

It had been so long, and she was missing the smiling face that would have helped.

Years of training and repetition and intensive fighting and Andy was supposed to be able to turn it all off on cue? To stop calculating threat assessments and variables and how much cover the overturned table in front of her would provide? She couldn't do it. But with only a twitch of her arm, folding the guidebook shut, she didn't say any of that.

"It's a little loud in here," she returned instead, opting for carefully-spoken English. It wasn't wholly untrue; the cafe was not quite packed, but busy, the snippets of conversation floating by breaking into each other like waves overlapping. The noise just kept echoing in her head and rebounding, and Andy felt smaller and smaller, more and more trapped.

"I don't speak Italian."

He didn't need to see the tags around her neck to recognize her as a fellow soldier. It read in every line of her being, from the way she looked at him with only the side of her vision to the way her book snapped shut. She was new to civilian life again. He saw it in the tightness of her back and the haunted look in her eyes.

At his side, Gioia huffed another soft whine, resting her head on his knee and staring intently at her. She was like him...and she was hurting.

Moving slowly so that she could see every movement, he reached into his shirt and pulled out his own set of tags, letting them jingle a little as he dropped them down against his chest. A quiet recognition and understanding.

"Why don't we move outside? It is much quieter on the patio. I'll buy you a coffee." It was past noon, but they knew him here. "My name is Nicolo. This is Gioia. She would like to help you, if you'll let her."

"I have tea," she says to the offer of coffee, shaking her head. She didn't need the jolt of caffeine, it wouldn't help. Even if she had loosened up a tiny bit when she'd seen his dogtags: at least they'd have some kind of even footing. She'd had the mostly empty cup of green tea--it wasn't lotus tea, the sweet and floral kind Quynh had given her a box of once Andy had fallen in love with it--sitting by her elbow getting cold for the last half hour. But it helped. A little. "Moving outside might be...better,"she hedged. "And it's Andy."

The guidebook got a closed hand resting on it, fingers curling gently as if tunneling through Gioia's fur. But she she knew enough of service dogs from her former fellow-soldiers to know not to pet her. "She's pretty. What does she help you with?" Andy asked, gathering the book and bag to move. It let her breathe a soft sighof relief when the noise level dropped:there were people but they were father away, quieter. Ambient noise was difficult for her to ignore:it had always meant she should be listening, moving, planning. Something. To let it simply flow around her and sit still was a tall order.

"How long have you been out?"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Andy."

While Andy gathered up her things, Nicky quietly snagged the waitresses attention, informing her that he was moving outside and that the woman next to him needed to be added to his bill. He also took the liberty of ordering her another tea to be brought out with his own. The waitress gave him a sly smile and a 'good luck' wink and Nicky didn't have the heart to correct her.

Moving outside was an obvious good thing. Her shoulders relaxed a little, and Nicky had heard that soft sigh. He smiled a little at his own quick thinking, then gestured to the table that was tucked off into the corner of the building.

He gave Andy the seat that put her back to the wall.

"Two years, give or take a few months. The waitress is coming at your 5 o'clock with our drinks." He nodded at the waitress when she got there, thanking her for the drinks. When she left, he reached down to idly thread his fingers into Gioia's thick ruff.

"She helps me with a lot of things. Right now, she wants to help you with your on-coming panic attack. Will you let her?"

She turned her head only an inch or two to see the waitress, holding herself taut until the woman left and saying nothing, short of a quick nod of thanks. People she couldn't see bringing her things unpredictably was still unsettling, but Andy was trying to get used to it. It just wasn't going very well, or very quickly. Without an anchor to help her, she was adrift in a world that felt hostile and unpredictable, not knowing when something would startle her into a reaction she didn't want to have.

It was why she didn't carry a firearm anymore; just a little knife tucked into her belt, securely touching her elbow even once she turned back. She breathed deep, trying to calm her already-racing heart, kicking up as the noise around her fuzzes out into static. It was difficult to push it down and focus again.

"I don't..." Andy didn't bother finishing that thought, knowing how falsely it rang. She could hear it. "What will she do about it?" she asked instead, hands fisting on her thighs before she made herself pick up the delicate china cup of tea from the table, though the liquid sloshes dangerously towards the rim.

He recognized the motion for what it was and knew that she'd be watching his face just as much as the waitress. So, to set her at ease, he kept his eyes on the waitress, sharp and assessing and no doubt a little too focused to be perfectly comfortable for the woman, but she didn't say anything.

It wasn't the first time he'd looked at her like that.

There was a reason she continued to wait on them even though they'd moved to another waitress' section.

When she left, he returned his look back to his new companion and shrugged. "Honestly, I am not sure. For me, she will ground me. Make me pay attention to her and only her. She is not supposed to alert to anyone else, so I'm not sure what she will do for you. But I think it will help, no matter what she does." He reached down and stroked the soft fur at the base of Gioia's ears.

"She is very good at her job."

Andy watched his face the entire time the waitress was nearby, and was thankful for his attention on her: she wouldn't--couldn't--relax yet, but her eyes flickered down to the dog who looked so docile sitting by the man's feet. She cupped one hand around her tea and breathed in, breathed out in a measured count before she shifted in her chair.

It was all down to one decision.

"Alright," she said hesitantly, watching between the man and the dog. "If she's...slow about it."

She agreed. Nicky's lips quirked up into a small smile and he dipped his head in a small nod of thanks before he gave Gioia one last pat and leaned back in his seat. Her eyes flicked from him to Andy, her body tense like she was holding herself back.

He'd seen her focused like this, but only on him. It was a little strange to see it aimed at someone else. Finally, he murmured a soft "Vai a salutare" and Gioia was up on her feet in one smooth motion.

For all her focus and excitement to meet this woman, however, she walked carefully over to her, nudging her hands with her dark muzzle for a moment. When Andy didn't shove her away, she pressed a little harder so that Andy's hands were in the thick fur of her ruff.

And if Andy didn't start calming down after that, she hopped her front legs up onto the edge of the chair, then shifted forward so that she could lay the entire upper half of her 75lb frame on Andy's lap and against her stomach.

The dog pushing into her hands got Andy's attention, and she curled her fingers tight into the soft, dense fur before getting half the dog in her lap. It surprised her and she made a soft noise, but the heavy weight and warm pressure made her muscles relax almost involuntarily, bending forward over Gioia's head. As she bent a tiny pendant spilled out of her shirt, a blue and sparkling bead that looked like a diamond-studded galaxy.

She curled her hands tightly against Gioia's fur, finally relaxing all at once with a huff of a sigh, noise sudden and unexpected even to her, and a soft tumble of words from her mouth.

Nicky knew exactly how grounding Gioia could be. There were many mornings when he wouldn't have been able to face getting out of bed if it hadn't been for the dog's weight on his chest. He knew the science of it, of course, but knowing the science and feeling the affects were completely different things.

He smiled and finally took a sip of his cappuccino. Gioia would stay in Andy's lap until Andy was breathing normally again and Nicky was in no hurry to speed up the process. In fact, he gave the waitress a shake of his head when she started heading towards them with his food, mouthing a silent 'Grazie' as she nodded and turned to go back inside.

He was, after all, a regular there. They'd all seen Gioia work.

It was a slow process at first, but watching Andy relax was like watching an ice shelf break off into the sea: she trembled, and cracked a little, muscles tensing before everything sheared off abruptly and Andy just seemed to collapse. Gioia's weight in her lap helped immensely, narrowing Andy's world to just herself and the dog. Her fingers tightened, and shook, and only gradually relaxed until she was just petting down the thick fur, palms almost numb with the repetitive motion. The entire exchange took ten minutes, but Andy at last lifted her head, clearer and calmer as she sat up.

The necklace that had fallen out of her shirt she touched with the gentlest brush of fingertips, picking it up to hold it to her lips before tucking it back into her collar and trying to manage a truer smile at Gioia, still petting her one-handed. She murmured a quiet thanks in Hebrew to the animal, the words easy and practiced as if they were her native speech, though she didn't look like someone who'd come from the Levant. "She must give you a great deal of support."

He was quiet while she worked through her panic, watching as she slowly collected herself. He'd only seen it a couple of times from an outsiders point of view and he wondered not for the first time if his own episodes looked like this.

Once she calmed and sat up, no longer hugging the dog like she was the only thing holding her together, Gioia eased off her lap and moved to lay back under Nicky's chair. All the intent energy that she'd had earlier was gone and instead she looked almost bored.

"She does. I..I probably wouldn't have made it if it wasn't for her, if I'm to be honest." Because maybe hearing something like that from a complete stranger who'd also lived as she had would help her understand how not normal such mental pain was. He reached for his coffee again, the simple band on his left ring finger glinting a little in the sun.

The idea that the feelings knocking around in her head weren't normal had already hit Andy like the proverbial ton of bricks: the idea that they could be fixed, could be dealt with some way other than just her gritting her teeth and suffering through it would take a while longer. It was going to be a long and difficult road towards normalcy and getting help for it, especially without the one person who'd actively been trying to help.

Quynh had admired Andy's skills, but held back no opinions about how a military career like hers without a support system was asking for trouble.

"They're not with you?" she asked, apparently apropros of nothing, but nodding at Nicky's ring. It wasn't uncommon to need time alone, but she'd assume if he had a spouse they'd be with him on a normal morning in a coffeeshop.

He glanced up from his coffee, brows furrowed a little in confusion. Then she gestured at his hand and he looked...and he paused for a minute when his eyes caught the ring. Under the table Gioia shifted to put her head on his foot and he blinked a couple time in rapid succession before absently covering the ring with his other hand.

It was a good morning.

"He didn't make it home." His voice broke once, but he ignored it and forced himself to look up at his company, a thin smile forced onto his lips. "But he's always with me."

That subtle little motion to cover his ring was familiar: she'd seen others do it all too often. Andy just pulled that necklace out again, rolling it between her fingers where he could see it, face admirably level as she replied.

"So is she," Andy said quietly. "Six months ago they said MIA. Three months after that, they sent me her tags." She took a wavering breath, held it, and let it back out carefully, ignoring the stinging tears at the corners of her eyes. "She always wanted to travel more. So..."

He watched her pull that necklace back out, understanding in his eyes as he listened. Some of her paranoia made a lot more sense now. After all, if her mystery 'she' could just disappear like that, what else could happen if she didn't keep her eyes on everything?

"I'm sorry. I truly am. I, at least, got to say good bye." He also knew where his husband was buried and had been allowed to attend his service, though not as his husband. Yusuf's family hadn't cared, they loved him even now, but their marriage was illegal in Tunisia.

He looked around her for a moment before he nodded. "The waitress is bringing out my meal. She's coming in at your 4 o'clock and has a tray on her shoulder. I got you a bagel."

Andy worried her teeth around her lip, shaking her head slowly. It felt strange to admit anything about herself an Quynh to anyone: for so long they'd kept things between them purposefully discreet, knowing how it would affect both their jobs. "We weren't..." Official, out, "...Married." They'd spent weeks together, though, sending emails and texts and letters with photos from home.

"But she's gone, and I'm..." Here. But not tensing up when the waitress approached, though she turned her head to watch from the corner of her eye. "You didn't have to get me food."

"It does not matter. You lost her, the pain is there. A slip of paper does nothing for or against that." Marriage was a social construct. Love was human nature.

The waitress came and set their, thankfully still warm, food down. She also brought them two waters for when their drinks were gone, a rather pointed look at Nicky as she set it down. He didn't say anything, but his lips did curl a little upwards at their corners.

Once they were alone again, he shook his head and waved away her words. "I'm not going to eat in front of you without you eating, and if I don't eat she'll have my head."

Edited 2020-09-30 23:13 (UTC)

Andy followed that pointed look, and flicked back and forth between Nicky and the waitress: she'd eat, but at best it would be perfunctory. She'd had breakfast, and hadn't been eaten overly regularly for the past few weeks at any rate. The bagel wouldn't kill her, it was just extra calories. Maybe she'd stop losing weight here.

"No one really...knew," she said softly. "Israeli military--you can be out, officially, it's fine...but people still say things." Andy hadn't wanted to draw undue attention to Quynh, already a known outsider given her position. Nationalist militaries were insular to begin with, and her unit had been more so than most, a tight-knit group. But why exactly she was telling a stranger any of this was a mystery, though Andy didn't want to examine it. It felt too good, too normal to be speaking to someone who knew.

Someone else who broke the rules they'd all learned growing up: boys fell for girls, fighting was bad, love lasted forever. Andy suspected Nicky knew those falsehoods even better than she herself did. "Does it stop feeling like...this? Eventually?" she asked: surviving in the civilian world, chaotic as it was and alone, felt like those protracted deafening-ringing moments after a flashbang went off, or having to learn how to operate again missing a dominant hand. It was proving difficult indeed for Andy.

Edited 2020-10-02 17:21 (UTC)

He'd done his Italian duty of putting food in front of her. The rest was her choice. He'd met his obligation and felt no shame in neatly cutting his sandwich into thirds to make it easier to eat.

"I'm sorry. My husband was from Tunisia. It's illegal there, so he left. His family knew, of course. We still talk over the computer."

Was that strange that he still spoke to his in-laws? He didn't think so. His own family had disowned him, after all, so they were all the family had left. Samar still called him abnay. He blinked away the lump in his throat and pushed his plate to the side in favor of picking up his coffee again.

"No. But it gets easier. You find ways to make it easier." He reached down and Gioia shoved her muzzle into his hand, content to lay there like that until he let her go. "I struggled. A lot. Eventually I learned about these guys," he gently shook her muzzle and her tail thumped on the base of the table. "Things are better now. She keeps me from getting so lost in my own head. Gives me a reason to get out of bed in the morning."

She took a breath, and watched as Gioia put her head in the man's hand.

"Did you meet while you were in?" she asked. "We--her name was Quynh. We met doing a liasion with interpol, and...it just worked. I loved her." It was a soft admission, but no less important for that, and not entirely sure how to follow that up.

He shook his head, smoothing his fingers over the fur between Gioia's eyes and up over her ears. It was methodical and habitual, a motion that he was obviously very familiar with. Self soothing in a way that made talking this much for this long easier. He still wasn't good at the whole talking 'thing' sometimes.

"No. We met in school. When he got his citizenship, we went in together." They had already been married, so they'd served together. Until they didn't anymore.

He looked away and took a large drink of his coffee.

"Sorry. I don't...talk much, anymore."

She shook her head. "You don't have to." The questions were personal: probably too personal, but that was all Andy had been asked in the last several months. Exit debriefs were never easy or enjoyable.

"You were lucky to have him."

"And you were lucky to have her." Because she was. Love was something that he never regretted feeling, even if it had far too quickly warped into one of the most painful things.

The memory of waking up in Joe's arms wasn't something he'd trade for all the dreamless sleep in the world.

He was quiet for a moment, understanding her pointed line of questioning. They weren't good at small talk anymore. None of them were.

Reaching down, he pulled a pen from Gioia's vest and scrawled out a phone number onto his napkin. After a moment, he added another. Then he put the pen back and rezipped her vest before he slid the napkin across the table.

"The first number is the number of the guy who handles my support group. You should see about coming. See what it's all about. It helps.

"The second is my cell phone. I might not answer right away if I'm having a bad day, but keep calling. You'll get me."

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."

He could understand that. The mind clung to the pain a lot harder than it did to the laughter. Learning to focus on the good instead of dwelling in the bad was a coping skill that took a lot of time and effort. It was certainly a skill that had eluded Nicky for the first year he'd spent ghosting.

Honestly, it still eluded him sometimes.

He took her phone and called himself, pulling out his own phone as well so that he could save both of their contacts. He added (Gioia) next to his name in her phone. Along with his own number, he made sure to program the other number, as well. He labeled it 'G.T.-Start coming here' and handed her phone back across the table.

"There. I mean it. Call anytime. My sleep schedule isn't exactly a 'schedule' anymore, but I'm sure you can understand that."

"You really like that group therapy thing," Andy murmured, glancing at the phone.

She didn't sleep much either, and understood it perfectly when he said his schedule really wasn't one. Hers wasn't either. She'd stayed up until almost dawn that morning, after only a few restless hours of sleep early in the evening.

"I'll call. I don't know if I'm staying here for very long--I'm still in a hotel, I don't know if I'm going back to Tel Aviv or not," she said, shaking her head. There wasn't much for her there. There wasn't much for her anywhere, truth be told, but maybe she could find something. Somewhere. Why not Rome.

"What did you do while you were in?"

He shrugged one shoulder, leaning back in his chair to hook one elbow over the back. It was a casual position, relaxed...but he was also angled so he could see the entire courtyard and the street beyond.

It made it all the more believable when he flicked his gaze back to Andy.

"I was a sniper." If he'd been closer to his discharge, he would have continued it with his exact rank and title. He'd been out long enough, however, that his work spoke for itself. You don't get to be a sniper without a significant amount of training and skill.

"I would offer a couch to feel more human on, but I don't have one. I've only been here a few months myself." He was still in the VA apartments, looking for a place of his own but it still didn't feel right.

"Everything still feels too big."

She nodded once, short and professional; a recognition of how much training he'd have had. Andy knew exactly how specialized that field was, and that was coming from her. She had none of the patience to sit for hours and hours marking a target, though she hardly even flinched at hostage recovery, disruption of weapons smuggling or human trafficking, or much else. She was a damn good soldier.

"I'm...I was Unit 269. Sayeret Maktal, IDF." She had to stop herself from giving a rank and serial number: it was so very much second-nature that she stumbled over not saying it, shaking her head.

"It's difficult to not say all of it. I still forget sometimes, even if I'm out." It didn't feel real sometimes, like this was all some kind of dream an she'd wake back up in the field, sleeping against a fellow unit member, or curled up against Quynh in their bed. God, what she wouldn't give for that part, that brain-aching, heart rending loss to be a nightmare, nothing substantial. "They do a good job breaking us, don't they?"

Edited 2020-10-18 04:08 (UTC)

Everyone had something they were good at. They were all trained to fulfill the basics and the standards, but everyone had a unique skill that offered something special to their team. Nicky had patience and the ability to turn off his compassion. Joe had close blade skill and an easy ability to lighten the hearts of those around him.

Or maybe that was just Nicky.

He smirked and nodded, looking down at his half eaten sandwich and untouched chips. He wasn't going to eat any more. Probably not for the rest of the day. He could almost hear Joe's disapprove 'tsk' in the back of his mind and his eyes softened for a moment as he shifted the plate further away.

"They do. I did the full introduction for probably a full six months. On bad days, it's still in my mouth. I've just gotten better at swallowing it again.

"You will, too. You just have to give it time.

"This place doesn't help. Rome is beautiful and glorious...but it is big and busy. Things were a little easier in Genoa, but I couldn't stay there. I still haven't found anywhere better, though."

She let out a faint huff of a laugh, more a sort of breathy sneeze than anything else. "You would have liked it where I was born. It's a few hours outside Tbilisi, but very small. Quiet, if you're the right kind of person."

Andy was not. It was why she had left: fear was a way of life in any place that had once been part of the former Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, and Andromache was fearless. She never hesitated to charge into a problem, to dive head-first into any challenge she found. It had made her a valuable asset to the unit in many ways.

"I do miss the horses, though. I grew up on a farm, so...I liked them. We had drafts."

Just because he wasn't going to eat didn't mean he was going to not drink his coffee. Another image of Joe 'tsk'ing at him popped up in his mind's eye and he hid his smile in the foam of his drink.

"It sounds beautiful...but probably a little too quiet. I grew up in Genoa, which has never really been small. Not as big as here, of course, but it's a port city. New faces every day and all the cultures and habits you can possibly think of. I had hoped to go back there after his funeral, but.." He shrugged a shoulder and took another sip of his drink to hide the pain in his eyes.

"It didn't work out. Horses sound nice, though. I've never been around them, myself. Gioia here is the closest I've ever had to a 'pet'." Under the table the dog perked her ears at the sound of her name, but she didn't move.

"Oh, it was," she replied, turning her teacup around in her hands. "Too small. Too...it wasn't even a town, really. More like a village." She hadn't been a good fit there much past childhood, especially not when she'd come out to her family. Two of her four sisters still spoke to her, though they were far-flung across the globe now, but her parents and youngest sibling hadn't had any contact with her since she'd left.

She'd initially tried to stay close, but Russian military expectations had not suited Andromache, nor had she suited them. So she'd ended up in Israel. "They were quite a bit like Gioia, honestly. They were working animals. But I loved riding them, and even doing the work for them. They...show appreciation better than most people do."

"Most animals do." Under the table, Gioia shifted a little to put her head on Nicky's foot and he glanced up and past Andy. "The waitress is coming back." With a box and a stern talking to if her bemused smirk could be believed.

He intercepted her with a quiet chuckle and something that could have been reassurance, but it was all in Italian. She pointed at him with the waxed cardboard and he laughed, but nodded and took the 'threatening' tool from her hand. In exchange, he handed her a card and she ran it quickly through the tablet that she pulled from her apron pocket. He signed the screen and she smiled at them both before once more leaving them to their conversation.

Nicky's smirk lingered on his lips for a moment before he started moving the barely touched food from his plate to the box. "She likes to fuss over me. She's taken up the role of my sister while I've been here. Apparently, she likes you and thinks that it is lovely that I've made a new friend."

That got a faint laugh from Andy. "We've known each otherfor...what, an hour, and we're friends already?" she asked, faintly lost at the implication. She didn't have many friends, or any really: just teammates, unit members with whom she was closer than others.

"Why didn't you eat?" she asked, glancing from the plate to the box with a lifted eyebrow.

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