“Heard you had a run-in with Reeves,” he said casually, though his eyes were sharper than his tone.
“Nothing worth noting,” I replied, not looking up.
He didn’t buy that, but he didn’t push it either. Instead, he leaned against one of the shelves, watching me work in a way that suggested he was trying to figure something out.
“You don’t move like a supply sergeant,” he said after a moment.
That made me pause, just briefly. “There’s a manual for that?” I asked, keeping my tone neutral.
“Not exactly,” he said, “but I’ve been around long enough to know the difference between someone who learned this job in a classroom and someone who learned it the hard way.”
I didn’t respond to that. There are conversations you can have, and then there are ones that lead to questions you can’t afford to answer.
Instead, I changed the subject, asking about the additional equipment Reeves’ team had requested. Blake filled me in, mentioning thermal optics, extended-range comms, and specialized charges—the kind of gear that suggests a mission more complex than what had been officially briefed. That only confirmed what I had already suspected.
“They’re going in heavy,” he said. “Whatever they’re after, command’s letting them bend the rules to get it.”
“Or they’re not seeing the full picture,” I muttered, more to myself than to him.
