Ken yawned, concealing his mouth with the back of his hand. Every ounce of his being was screaming for him to return to the rack, but he couldn’t do so without checking in on his friend. He took a seat across from her, glancing at the candles and the shimmering effects on Jade’s girlish yet unyielding features. “I knew you were an early riser, Low Drag, but this is a tad ridiculous, don’t you think?”
Jade didn’t say anything.
“So what gives? Can’t sleep?”
Still no response.
“Working your way toward another firewatch ribbon?” Ken waited for a beat while she persisted holding her tongue. “Those are some really nice candles,” he bumbled. “Can’t get a fix on the scent, though. It’s almost like coconut and vanilla…and I don’t know…dust, maybe?”
Jade flitted her eyes toward him momentarily, only to resume her stare through the window.
Ken yawned again, this time forgoing concealment. “Okay, Jade, enough of this. Just spill it.”
“Spill what?”
“Whatever the hell this is—whatever’s bugging you. I’ve had about all I can take of your more-distant-than-usual side. Why the hell are you even awake right now? It’s got to be close to 0300.”
“Closer to 0330.”
“I stand corrected.” He sighed. “Since we’re both up, let’s make the most of our time together. Edify me. You haven’t been the same since the other day.”
“I don’t think anyone here has been the same since the other day. Why should I be any different?”
“I could name a few reasons,” said Ken, shrugging. “You’re alive, for starters. You got Alan’s kid to the doctor in the nick of time, spared me from FUBARing my leg more than it already is, and you didn’t lose anyone.”
“I didn’t?”
“No, you didn’t. I’m not saying it wasn’t a tragedy; it was. But you’re not related to nor did you serve with any of the boys who got dead, and you hardly know any of the people living here. Yet you’re sitting here, staring out the window, swigging coffee at zero-dark-stupid, looking like you just got extracted from a MASCAL and found out your grandmother died.”
Jade rotated slowly to face him, leaned back, and lifted her mug to her lips, taking a long pull from it. She didn’t say anything.
Ken gestured to the mug. “The breakfast of champions. Any more where that came from? Seeing as how rack ops have concluded for me, might as well pour on the stimulants and make it official.”
Jade set the mug down, an impugning look befalling her, and slid it across the table into Ken’s waiting hand.
The anomaly of cold ceramic was instantly detectable. Brows together, Ken bypassed his lips and brought the mug to his nose, where the robust odor of whiskey stung his sinuses like a ballpeen hammer to his funny bone. He winced and recoiled. “Jesus God. Okay, there’s no denying it anymore. You come clean with me, and you do it right now.”
Her eyes folding closed a second, Jade pointed to the mug. “Give that back first.”
“No,” he said, pulling it closer and out of her reach. “First we talk.”
“Ken…”
“No, Jade. Why should I?”
“Because I asked you to.”
“No, you didn’t either. You told me. Telling isn’t asking.”
“Ken,” Jade growled, “give it back.”
“No. No, I won’t.”
“Don’t make me take it from you, fam.”
“Do it, then. Because it looks like you’ve had enou—”
Jade shot up from her chair, whisper shouting, “Hand it the fuck over!” shifting so rapidly that it didn’t seem possible in her present state.
Ken went a shade of pale, the sudden gruffness in her tone giving him a shudder. He cautiously returned the mug to its rightful owner. “Damn, okay…I’m sorry. Calm the hell down.”
Mug retrieved, Jade eyeballed him, sliding back into her chair. “That was a reaction, not an overreaction,” she garbled, then sighed. “Then again, maybe it was, I don’t know. It’s probably not a good idea to fuck with me right now.”
“I can see that, but I wasn’t fucking with you,” Ken said humbly. “Admittedly, I’m not the best at empathizing or conveying concern. Never really had a lot of practice. In the Corps, it was easier, cut and dry. When a boot was skating, being a broke-dick, or showing his ass, he was unkindly instructed to liberate his cranium from his coal shoot, resume fire, and unfuck himself. Being back on the block is different, more complicated. There’s a shit ton of pesky factors to remember and deal with; personalities, attitudes, and…moods; no on-off switch for trials and ’tribs. Guess you can’t teach an old devil dog new tricks.”
Jade snorted gently, almost inaudibly, and brought the mug to her lips again. “Have you ever been stricken with that notorious line, ‘it’s not you, it’s me’?”
“Not in recent times.”
She exhaled a brief chuckle from her nose. “Put a mark on your calendar for today, then.”
Ken leaned over the table, interlacing his fingers. “Okay, done. And since we’ve cleared that up, what’s this about?”
“What’s what about?”
“This,” Ken began, sighing, gesturing to Jade and her dilemma. “I’ve known you for a good while now, and it’s a rare opportunity to see you off-center. You’re tough as nails, one of the fiercest multipurpose human bipods with tits I’ve ever had the honor of working with.”
“What?” Jade reacted, spitting a minute portion of whiskey back into her mug.
“I’m serious. Your mental and physical discipline is astounding; dare I say superhuman sometimes. And you’re goddamn scary good at practically everything you put your hands on. But you are the worst, the epitome of suck, atrociously fucking horrible at one key thing.” Ken’s brows elevated. “You can’t hide your inner feelings for shit.”
Jade forced an infantile smirk. “Tell me how you really feel.”
“Something’s going on in that pretty head of yours, that much is obvious. And I know you’re not much for talking about things,
